Seeing the Invisible
by Gwen Sanderson
Summary: Sequel to "A Story of Min" (you don't need to read it, but it might help a little)- Takes place in Harry's 5th year. A new character appears, a prophecy is to be fufilled and voldemort looms on the horizon.
1. chapter 1

A/n:  
This is my version of the 5th book. You must remember that it is a sequel to " a story of min" so if you haven't read it, you may be a bit confused. This occurs two years after " a story of min" ended, so it's Harry and Co.'s fifth year. Other than the fact that professor McGonagall is married to Professor Lupin, its all pretty much the same as the rest. Oh, and just to clear matters up, Professor McGonagall chose to keep her maiden name so as not to arouse confusion among her students.  
  
Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and ideas that you recognize from the 4 Harry potter books belong to the incredibly talented J.K Rowling. Whatever tidbits that are leftover are mine. Please don't sue me, I have no money (ain le keseph).  
  
The golden sun of an July afternoon shone through the canopy of deep green trees. Hundreds of feet below the highest branches of the emerald trees lay a girl, sprawled out on the grassy bank of a burbling brook, her long black hair streaming along the forest floor behind her. She lay there asleep, her slender fingers trailing in the cool, clear water, her hazel cat- like eyes hidden by ivory lids. What the girl didn't realize was that what happened in the next few minutes would change her life forever.  
  
Speeding towards her like a thrown Frisbee was a large brown something. Of course, the girl failed to notice this, considering the fact that she was sleeping. The speeding brown something turned out to be an owl. The owl landed right on her head and gave her a few good pecks. That rose her fast enough. Startled, the girl abruptly jumped up, and to see an owl carrying a letter, a letter that was (for once in a lifetime) addressed to her, only added to her confusion. With shaking hands she opened the thick parchment envelope. The letter read:  
  
Dear Miss Farrell Branwen,  
  
You have been chosen from your current school, Brewer's Institute of Magical Education, to transfer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth year student. If you accept our invitation, please send word by return owl before July 31st. A list of your supplies that are needed for the year is enclosed.   
Sincerely,  
  
Professor M. McGonagall  
  
  
Farrell nearly fell into the stream.   
  
" Hogwarts?! Oh, wow. Wait until Mrs. Fairfax hears!!!" exclaimed Farrell as she grabbed her sweater and ran out of the forest back to the orphanage in which she lived.  
  
~  
  
In a musty staff room, around a small oak table, sat four older men and women. The first of them was a plump, middle aged woman with long red hair and a cheery face, the second was a thin, bony, white haired old man with large spectacles and a funny little cap, the third was a very small old lady with a warm smile and very happy blue eyes, her long white hair pulled into a braid down her back, and the last was a sturdy looking man of about 50 or so, with brown hair speckled with gray and large brown eyes behind oval glasses. They sat together and were playing a game of cards, laughing as it exploded every so often.   
  
Then, suddenly, the door crashed open with a bang and a girl flew in, breathless and smiling from ear to ear.  
  
" Mrs. Fairfax, Mrs. Fairfax, you'll NEVER guess what I've gotten!!!" screamed Farrell, scaring the four orphanage administrators out of their wits.  
  
" For heavens sake, Farrell, no more birds nests. if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times," said the kind old woman with the blue eyes as she bent to pick up the scattered playing cards that had fallen to the floor as the four people had jumped.  
  
" its not that! Its…its…well, look-" said Farrell, thrusting the letter towards Mrs. Fairfax.  
  
Mrs. Fairfax pulled a pair of thin black spectacles from her pocket and began to read Farrell's letter. Her elegant little mouth promptly fell open. Within a minute it was smiling again.  
  
" That's wonderful, Farrell! I'll return the owl immediately," said Mrs. Fairfax, pulling her favorite tenant into a hug, " I knew you were special, from the first moment I saw you. But I'd never imagined…well, fancy a child from Longtree Magical Orphanage going to Hogwarts! You'll be the first there, darling."   
  
Farrell leaned out of the hug, beaming, " so I can go?"  
  
Mrs. Fairfax and her three card-playing companions nodded.  
  
~  
  
In a dark cave, two lone figures huddled close together, plotting.  
  
" we need the city, Wormtail. Without it the task of disposing of that old crackpot, Dumbledore, and the potter boy will be long and tedious. With the city at my fingertips, I will have power enough to crush the crackpot and all of his followers in a single blow," hissed the fist voice, finishing with a cruel cackle of high-pitched laughter.   
  
"Forgive me master, but if the city is invisible, how shall we find it?" asked the second voice, quavering in fear.  
  
" ah, that is where the seer comes in, Wormtail. We need the seer and the key. With the key, the seer will show us the way."  
  
~  
  
" we need the seer and the key. With the key, the seer will show us the way."  
  
Farrell sat up straight in bed, scared to death without understanding why.   
  
" I must have had another nightmare," thought Farrell, though all she could remember was two voices, and something about a seer and a key, " how odd."  
With that, she dismissed the thought, and went back to sleep, still feeling slightly uneasy.  
  
  



	2. chapter 2

Seeing the Invisible chapter 2  
  
Disclaimer- anything you do not recognize belongs to me, whatever you do belongs to J.K Rowling. Please don't sue me because I am broke.  
  
Through the bustling station, Farrell hastily pushed her trolley ( in which her long, extremely baggy, tunic-like sweater that Mrs. Fairfax insisted she'd wear continuously got caught) , on which balanced her navy blue trunk, large black owl in his birdcage, and small leather bag. Rhiannon, her new owl, was thoroughly fed up with people knocking into her cage, and was hooting unhappily.   
  
" I'm so sorry, Rhee, but we're late, and we HAVE to make this train. Don't blame me, blame Martin for making us late, " murmured Farrell, looking down at her owl as she ran through King's Cross searching for platforms 9 and 10, angrily thinking about her slow old driver, Martin.  
  
Unfortunately, this one moment of looking down caused her to run headlong into a boy who had been pushing his cart across the path of hers. The trolleys flew to the ground, as did their contents and the people pushing them.   
  
" Aw blast it. Blast it all!" Farrell scolded herself as she started to get up. Then it occurred to her that there was an owl hooting. She looked to Rhiannon, but she was just sitting there looking aggravated. Then her eyes rose to the cage of a snowy owl, who was hooting and throwing a fit in its cage. Farrell suddenly remembered the boy and rushed to help him up.  
  
" Oh, I'm so sorry- really, I should have been looking, but you see I was late and-" Farrell began, helping the dark haired boy up, but she seemed to lose her train of thought completely when he lifted his head.  
  
He brushed himself off, head still down, and apologized for knocking her down, then he looked up and saw the shocked look on her face.   
  
" what?" the boy asked, " am I bleeding or something?" he asked, wiping his face, blushing as he looked back at the very pretty girl he'd knocked over.  
  
Farrell just stared and was finally able to say," well its…blimey…you're…"  
  
The boy's glittering green eyes rolled sarcastically behind his round glasses. He extended a hand, " Harry Potter, nice to meet you."  
  
Farrell smiled, blushing, and shook his hand, " Farrell Branwen, nice to meet you also."  
  
" Are you going to Hogwarts?" asked Harry, loading his things back onto his cart as fast as possible.  
  
" Yep- this'll be my very first day," replied Farrell, stocking up her things and racing through the station.  
  
"You mean to say that you're 11?" asked Harry, thinking how unbelievable that would be.  
  
Farrell paused at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 to turn to him and say, " Of course not, silly. I'm to be fifteen in October, and I'll be in the fifth year," before she disappeared into the barrier. Bewildered, Harry followed.   
  
They made the train in the last few seconds it was able to stay and Harry ushered Farrell into a compartment that was already seating a tall, thin, redheaded boy and a shorter brown-eyed girl with curly brown hair and a large book in her lap. They greeted Harry, but stared at Farrell for a few seconds before the silence was broken.   
  
The brown-eyed girl cleared her throat. " Harry, who's this?" she asked, nodding towards Farrell.  
  
Harry grinned, " This is Farrell Branwen. I ran into her in the station."  
  
At this, the redhead chuckled, " Is that how you meet girls, usually, Harry?"  
Then he stood up and extended his hand to Farrell, " Ron Weasley."  
  
Farrell smiled and shook hands with him, followed by the girl, who turned out to be named Hermione Granger.   
  
The three of them sat down and began to talk about Hogwarts, and the houses and quidditch and such things until Harry remembered he hadn't really asked why Farrell was even here.  
  
" Farrell, I don't mean to be rude, but how is it possible that you can just pop out of nowhere and become a fifth year student?" he asked.  
  
" Oh, well, I didn't just appear, you know. I'm a transfer. I was all set to attend my fifth year at Brewer's Institute of Magical Education when I got this letter from professor McDonald or whatever their name is," replied Farrell, impatiently waving her hand as she spoke.  
  
" McGonagall," said Hermione, slightly laughing.  
  
" yes, that was it," said Farrell.   
  
And so the talk went on. Farrell found out that it was best to be in Gryffindor over all the other houses, especially since Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in that house. She also learned that there were certain teachers to watch out for ( particularly a potions professor named Snape), and certain students ( such as a pale blonde boy named Malfoy and his two hulking cronies).  
  
Farrell was watching the body language between Ron and Hermione and had to keep from laughing sometimes. It was like flirting without words. While Ron and Hermione were busy arguing about quidditch ( Aw COME ON Hermione! It's the BEST game ever! - Grow up, Ron. Don't be so fanatical…)   
  
Farrell leaned over and whispered to Harry," are they dating? Or do they just act this way all the time?"  
  
Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing before he could respond.   
  
" No, but I'm sure both of them would love to be dating. They fight all the time, but it never means anything- at the end of the day they're laughing together."  
  
Farrell laughed and smiled at Harry before looking out the window. She could see the lights of Hogwarts in the distance as they rounded the corner.   
  
"wow," she thought, " this is amazing. Brewer's was just a large country manor- this is a palace."  
  
" Hey, GUYS!" she shouted to get Hermione and Ron's attention. Their heads turned inquisitively, " we're almost there, we should change."  
  
So Harry and Ron left, leaving Hermione and Farrell in the compartment. The silence was so awkward it was overpowering.  
  
" so…what's your favorite subject?" said Farrell, trying to break the ice as she pulled off her brown sweater.  
  
Hermione looked up as she slipped her black robe on, " Oh, I like it all, but Arithmancy is my favorite. What's yours?"  
  
Farrell pulled her robe on, too and said, " Arithmancy? I took that a few years ago- very difficult. You must be quite clever."   
  
Hermione beamed, hat in hand.  
  
"My favorite subject is Transfiguration," added Farrell, putting on her hat and plopping down onto the seat.   
  
Hermione was thoroughly interested now.  
  
"Is it? That's one of my best subjects- you're going to love Professor McGonagall. She'll probably have us transfigure something smallish for review, she does every year."  
  
" Really? Like what?"   
  
"oh, nothing hard-we did a teapot into a tortoise before, a hedgehog into a pincushion, a beetle into a button, and such."  
  
" hm…lets see," said Farrell, rummaging through her trunk. She finally stopped, pulling out a small white mouse.  
  
" This is Mary. She's my transfiguration mouse. What shall I turn her into?"  
  
" transfiguration mouse? What?" asked Hermione, confused.  
  
" well of course, we always- oh wait. You wouldn't know. Sorry, but at Brewer's we use mice in transfiguration, our pet mice, and we not only have to turn them into things, we have to get them back to mice properly. So I brought Mary with me, not knowing what you did in transfiguration. If she's too much trouble in the dormitory I will send her back to my friend Clara- her mouse, Oscar, is very very old, and she'd be glad to have Mary around."  
  
" Oh, no, I'm sure Mary won't be a problem. But what do you usually turn her into?" asked Hermione.  
  
" well… aw forget it, I'll just do the first thing that comes to mind."   
  
Farrell set Mary down on the seat, and being an obedient mouse Mary didn't move around at all. Farrell pointed her wand at Mary and closed her eyes in concentration. There was a pop and, upon looking down, Hermione found a brilliantly colored parrot sitting on the seat. Farrell gave her a grin and sat down, stroking the parrot that was Mary.  
  
Hermione was very impressed. " You've already done animal to animal transfiguration? We only start that this year!"  
  
"What? We started that in 3rd year!" replied Farrell, astonished. Then she remembered what had been told to her at school. " oh wait- Brewer's is an amazing school for transfiguration, but we're not exceptional when it comes to the other subjects."  
  
" Ah, that's it then," said Hermione, laughing, " ok…what's your worst subject?"  
  
" oh, Charms. I'm dreadful at Charms."   
  
" yes!!" exclaimed Hermione.  
  
" what do you mean, "yes!" ? are you making fun of me?" asked Farrell, confused and a little hurt.  
  
" Oh no! look, I meant to say that it's a good thing that I'm good at what you're not so good at, because then I can help you learn charms and you can teach me how to do the animal to animal transfiguration so that we'll both look smart in charms and transfiguration. Understand where I'm coming from?"  
  
" Yes! Thanks so much!"  
  
At that moment, Harry and Ron walked in and were quite confused about the parrot that Farrell was holding in her lap. She quickly zapped it back into a mouse and put Mary back in her trunk, along with her wand. Then the four of them got off the train and into the carriages to get to Hogwarts.  
  
Inside the carriage, along the bumpy paths, Ron and Harry sat opposite each other and discussed the homework over the summer and Hermione and Farrell stared out the window. Suddenly, the largest bump any of them had ever felt in a carriage jolted the small black car up into the air. Farrell, not being very heavy or big, flew into the air and came down right in Harry's lap. Shocked, he just sat there for a moment and they stared at each other, not saying anything. Then Farrell looked away, her face scarlet, and tried to get up. Her motion didn't help her much though, the moving cart made her almost fall into Harry again, but he helped her back into her seat. Then they both stared out their windows, blushing. Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows in a shared glance.  
  
~  
  
At the door of the entrance hall, Professor McGonagall greeted the students, but when they started to walk into the great hall, Farrell could hear her name being called.  
  
" BRANWEN! Which one of you is Farrell Branwen?"  
  
Farrell stepped out of the line, bumping into about 3 people, and dropped her hat. She stooped down and grabbed it, but when she looked up through the many strands of her very long, thick black hair she saw a stern woman in forest green robes, staring down at her through square spectacles. For some reason the woman just seemed… familiar. As though she'd seen her before.  
  
"Farrell Branwen, I presume?" said the woman, a tiny smile playing over her small lips. Farrell nodded. " Come with me then, we need to sort things out."  
  
Farrell followed the woman to an office lit by a roaring fire.  
  
" so, Miss Branwen," said the woman, settling herself behind the desk and pulling out a stack of papers, " I see you come from Brewer's."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."   
  
"Well, we're glad to have you here at Hogwarts for the last three years of your learning experience. I am Professor McGonagall, and I shall be your transfiguration teacher."  
  
" Nice to meet you, Professor," said Farrell, trying to figure out where she'd seen this woman.   
  
"Well," said Professor McGonagall, clapping her hands together, " we need to get you down to the Great Hall to be sorted."   
  
They stood up, but before they left the room Farrell looked right into the Professor's eyes, " excuse me, professor, but do I know you? I could swear I had seen you somewhere…"  
  
Professor McGonagall looked at her hard and said, " Come to think of it you also sort of…no. I'm sorry, Branwen, but I'm sure I've never met you before. Come now, or we'll be late."  
  
With that, they headed down to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall read names of children from a long scroll. When their name was called, the nervous eleven year olds sat on a stool and placed a hat on their head. The hat screamed what house they'd be placed in.   
  
As the A's passed Farrell began to get nervous, and when the Bs were done she thought something was wrong. Maybe I'm really not supposed to be here. Maybe I belong at Brewers…  
  
When they were all finished and " Zim, Morgan," was made a Hufflepuff, the rest of the students turned back to their plates, ready to eat. But Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.  
  
" Branwen, Farrell Mona."   
  
Farrell inwardly cursed Mrs. Fairfax for putting her middle name on the form as she stepped up to the stool.  
  
She could hear the whispers and feel the staring eyes of the students in the hall.  
  
" SHE's a first year?"  
  
" They obviously messed up the alphabetical order."  
  
" maybe she came late?"  
  
Farrell sat on the stool and placed the hat on her head.  
  
" Ah, Miss Branwen, here at last, " said a voice in her ear, "we've been waiting for you."  
  
" we?" she thought, " who's we?"  
  
"why your cousin and I, Miss Branwen, though she doesn't know it yet."  
  
Farrell just shrugged it off.   
  
" well, you're very quick witted, very strong…brave without a doubt. Ravenclaw? Gryffindor? Have you any say in the matter?" said the voice in her ear.   
  
Farrell said nothing but just thought gryffindor gryffindor gryffindor over and over.  
  
" Ah, can't bear to be parted with your friends. So I suppose that it shall be. We'll place you in GRYFFINDOR, " the voice said, shouting the last word to the entire hall.  
  
Smiling, Farrell got up and went to take a seat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table.  
  
Ron and Harry gave nods of welcome, but before they could say anything, a man with long, silvery, white hair and purple robes stood at the top of the head table. His blue eyes twinkled behind half moon spectacles.  
  
" hello and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before our plates are filled with the delicious feast, I have a few announcements to make. First of all, I'd like to welcome back Professor Lupin to fill the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, " there was an explosion of applause ( Harry, Ron and Hermione, in particular, stood up and cheered) directed towards a smiling, slightly young man with brown hair flecked with gray and very alert eyes. "I would also like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is exactly what its name hints- forbidden. Also, I'd like to welcome a new student in our midst. Her name is Farrell Branwen and she is a transfer from Brewer's Institute of Magical Education, and it was she who was sorted last just a moment ago. Well, Bon Appetit!" and with a wave of his hand, food appeared on the golden plates all along the tables.   
  
~   
  
After the feast, Farrell went up to her dormitory with Hermione early, eager to get some sleep.   
  
Ron watched as Harry's eyes followed Farrell all the way into her dormitory.   
  
" sheesh, she's hooked you, man, " laughed Ron, plopping into the chair next to Harry.  
  
Harry looked sideways at him ," what? What are you talking about?"  
  
" Oh, please Harry. You've only known her for about eleven hours and you can't keep your eyes off her!" said Ron, rolling his eyes.  
  
" What? Who has?" said Harry, staring into space.  
  
Ron walked over and knelt down so he was level to Harry's face, giving a snort of laughter. He placed each of his hands on either side of Harry's face and gave each cheek a good tap.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
" Wake up, Romeo! You know exactly who I'm talking about. Miss Farrell Mona Branwen, of course."  
  
Harry tried to look astonished, " Farrell? Wha…" then he cleared his throat and looked Ron in the eye, " Don't be ridiculous, Ron. I've only just met the girl, " he said as he stood up and climbed the stairs to their dormitory.  
  
" ' Don't be ridiculous Ron. I've only just met the girl'," mimicked Ron, trying hard to keep a straight face," He's the one being ridiculous, that's what I'm trying to tell him," said Ron under his breath as he too climbed the staircase.  
  
~  
  
A few corridors away, in a very different room, Professor McGonagall sat down on the edge of her bed a box she had received at sixteen and never opened.   
  
" Minerva, what's that old box?" asked Remus, her husband, who was presently laying at the head of the bed reading.   
  
" It was my mother's. It was given to me when she…passed. And I've yet to open it."  
  
Remus raised an eyebrow over the top of his book, " why now, then?" he asked, placing his hand on top of hers.  
  
" Because it occurred to me I know virtually nothing about my mother's family. I don't even know her maiden name. And … well… today I was startled by it."  
  
" What brought that on?"  
  
" oh…no reason…" said Minerva in a very unconvincing tone.  
  
Remus gave her a skeptical look and she sighed, " all right. Tell me I'm crazy, but that new girl- Branwen- she looks just like my mother, minus the hazel eyes and small stature. So I thought maybe she was my second cousin or niece twice removed or something. I decided that perhaps I'd look, since I don't know if my mother had any siblings, or any family at all."  
  
" okay, Min. well, let's open the box then, shall we?" said Remus gently.   
  
Minerva nodded and took a deep breath. She lifted the lid of the box. She remembered this box. She'd seen it once as a child under her mother's chest of drawers while hiding a Christmas present for her father. Just as she'd reached to open it she'd been called for dinner and had never looked for it again. But now, as she placed the blue wooden lid on the bed beside her, she felt relieved somehow, though for what reason she did not know.   
  
On top of the unorganized pile of pictures, records, mementos and photographs, sat a single photo, its vivid color looking almost unnatural. It must have been painted in due to the time period the photo was taken in. The picture was also most obviously taken by a muggle camera due to its lack of movement. In the picture, set in a grassy yard, stood four very respectable looking people.   
  
Minerva picked up the picture and looked more closely. There was a tall man holding his top hat in hand, his bright blue eyes shining out from under jet black eyebrows and his jet black hair shone in the sunlight. Next to him stood someone who looked to be his wife, a small woman with long, straight, auburn hair and beautiful, cat shaped, hazel eyes. One of the woman's pale, slender hands rested on the wrist of a tall young woman of about nineteen or twenty with shoulder-length straight black hair and ivory skin, and astonishingly blue eyes. Minerva recognized this immediately to be her mother, Stella, and the golden engagement band on her pale finger only confirmed Minerva's recognition. To the left of her mother, a small child of about 3 years old stood. Her long, dark hair fell to the back of her knees, and it parted on either side of her beautiful thin face, revealing huge hazel eyes. Minerva gently flipped the photograph over, and written in a loopy, elegant hand, was, " The Branwen Family on the way to Stella's engagement party- Astor, Cicely, Stella and Betsy."   
  
Minerva hastily dropped the box and ran to the small table in the corner of the room that she shared with Remus. On it were the records of the new Gryffindors. She picked out " Branwen, Farrell Mona" and found the birth certificate. The first line read, " Farrell Mona Branwen, daughter of Elizabeth (Betsy) Branwen and _______ ( no current husband ). "  
  
Minerva just sat on the floor, dazed, a hand on her head. Remus sat beside her.  
  
" what is it? " he asked softly.  
  
Minerva looked up at him, and handed the folder of Farrell's records to him, " This girl, she's my cousin. The only family I have. And she has no idea."  



	3. chapter 3

Seeing the Invisible 3  
  
Disclaimer: anything you recognize belongs to J.K Rowling, and anything left over is mine. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!  
  
For the first few weeks of school, Farrell couldn't go anywhere without being accompanied by Ron, Harry, or Hermione. She learned this the hard way o her second day while trying to get to divination by herself and got so completely lost that she not only missed divination, but charms and dinner also. She only found her way back when she recognized that out the window to her left was Hagrid's cottage, and she just walked in that direction all the way back to the entrance hall.   
  
Within that first month or so, Farrell met so many interesting people and learned more amazing things than she'd ever even thought possible. Her classes, she thought, were absolutely wonderful, whether she disliked the teacher or the class itself or not. For example, though she was a terror at charms (on her first day, while attempting to cast a cheering charm on Harry, she made him cry for about three and a half hours. Professor Flitwick had to lead him into a small, warmly lit room and made Farrell sit with him the entire time, trying to cheer him up without magic) she adored Professor Flitwick and simply loved to watch what charms her classmates had successfully preformed. The strangest thing about classes to her was how well she did in divination. She'd never even seen the book before, yet she knew every answer to Professor Trelawney's questions. She could see the crystal ball, she could see the tea leaves, and she'd never yet lied. Parvati and Lavendar were not glad to have her in class, but she only wished she could do so well in charms and herbology.  
  
There were a few odd things that didn't make sense to Farrell, though, specifically things that one wouldn't usually notice. For instance, the way that Professor McGonagall looked at her sometimes in class when she thought that Farrell wasn't looking. It was as though she was trying to get to know Farrell by staring at her from over the rims of those square spectacles she wore. Another odd thing was how Dumbledore, the headmaster, constantly popped up out of nowhere, and almost always found Harry around to have a quick word with. Upon overhearing snippets of their conversations, Farrell picked up quite a few confusing things. The weirdest one was how they both often talked of something or someone called "snuffles". " Have you talked to snuffles lately?" Harry would whisper to Dumbledore. Farrell would just stand several feet away, pretending to be extremely interested in the wall or painting nearby.   
  
One night in late October, while the chill wind whistled past the windows of the drafty Gryffindor common room, Farrell sat in an armchair near the fire, trying her best to keep warm while she breezed through her transfiguration essay, her eyes glinting behind her small, rectangular reading glasses.   
Harry sat about three chairs behind, not wanting to disturb her, but inwardly dying to rush up and sit an inch from the edge of the hearth. The common room was completely empty save the two of them and a small second year in the far back, seeing if she could freeze her cup of water from back there.   
  
Farrell rubbed her icy hands together, " damn the first frost. Stupid, stupid first frost," she muttered.  
  
Behind her, due to her very sensitive ears, she could hear Harry's teeth chattering.  
  
" For heaven's sake, Potter, come closer to the fire before you turn into Potter the Popsicle," she said loudly. Shaking her head as he slowly walked up and sat beside her, she looked down and continued her essay.  
  
"how many rolls have you done?" he asked, looking at the stack of filled in parchment about as thick as a small book beside her.  
  
" oh…I'd say about 7, " she replied, not taking her eyes off her eighth roll, he quill moving easily along the paper.  
  
" seven!? We're only required 2!" said Harry, astonished.  
  
Farrell finally looked up, her eyebrow raised. What she saw made her jaw nearly fall off. Harry was sitting in the armchair next to her in jeans and a tee shirt. She was wearing three shirts, a sweater, and pants under her robes, plus a scarf for her face.  
  
" What is wrong with you!?" she said to him. He just looked back with a puzzled expression.  
  
"no wonder you're freezing! Geez. And I just thought you were as cold as I am, but you must be numb…," she said softly as she ducked inside her robe and pulled off her top sweater and scarf. She threw them to him.  
  
" Put these on. Now."  
  
Harry took them and obediently put them on, and some of the color returned to his face.   
  
"Thank you," he said, blushing, " but…you've got other things on, haven't you? Because if you haven't I certainly can't-"  
  
" of course I have, don't be a nitwit. Only insane people like you come down in short sleeves when its 20 degrees inside," she said, rolling her eyes at him. Suddenly, she blushed and put the finishing sentence on her last page. She rolled up all of the parchment, tied it with a brown cord, and stored it in her knapsack. Though it was very late, and she had no work left, she could not compel herself to go up to her dormitory, for, even though they weren't talking, or even looking at eachother, just sitting beside Harry and feeling his presence made her feel as though everything was alright.   
  
She thought about how she'd heard him talking to Dumbledore earlier today and had heard the word "snuffles" again. She decided it was time to ask Harry what snuffles was.  
  
" Harry?" asked Farrell, looking over at him.  
  
"Hmm?"   
  
" Who is Snuffles?"  
  
Whatever Harry had expected her to ask him, it certainly was not that. He didn't even think about lying to Farrell. He looked her right in the eyes, bewildered.  
  
" How did you…."  
  
"I'm not deaf you know, and you're not a very soft talker, if you haven't noticed, " said Farrell, staring right back at him, her face set.  
  
Harry sighed and looked around him, " we can't discuss this here," he said, pulling off her sweater and scarf, " I'll be right back- stay here and put these on, " he threw the sweater and scarf at her, " and be ready." As he walked away she could have sworn she heard, " this is definitely going to alarm Sirius…"  
  
Farrell nodded as he stood and climbed the stairs to the boys dorm.  
  
" this must be much deeper than I'd imagined, " thought Farrell as she pulled her gloves from her knapsack and put them on.  
  
Within a minute Harry appeared at the bottom of the staircase, carrying three cloaks.  
  
" are Ron and Hermione coming?" asked Farrell, counting the cloaks.  
  
" no, " replied Harry, " one is for you, one is for me, and one is for both of us."   
  
" What?"  
  
" take off your robe," he said, disregarding her question and checking his watch. It read 12:09, they hadn't much time.  
  
" pardon me, but I do not strip down for yours or anyone else's amusement," Farrell stuttered, astonished.  
  
" oh no! its just that, if you wear it, it will be soaked from yesterday's puddles, and that's just something else you've got to wash, that's why I brought you a cloak, " laughed Harry, handing her the black cloak.  
  
"oh," she said, blushing as she pulled off her black robe, revealing slender legs and a slim figure covered by khaki pants and several shirts and a sweater, all in different shades of brown and tan. Harry stared while she fastened the clips on the cloak.  
  
"can I ask you something?" said Harry. Farrell nodded in reply.  
  
" Do you always wear clothes that match your eyes?"  
  
Farrell blushed deeply and shook her head. With that Harry grinned and looked back at her eyes.  
  
"Well, its very pretty…." Then he cleared his throat and blushed, " er … we should go, so…come here, " he said, beckoning her forward. She hesitated, but moved forward, and Harry draped the silver cloak over both of them, and they walked together through the halls and out of the castle. When they got out to the lake, Harry began to explain the entire story of Sirius showing up in his third year and telling Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professors Lupin and Dumbledore of his innocence. He revealed that snuffles was a sort of code name for Sirius, and he was to meet him this very night, for that was where he and Farrell were headed.   
  
"And that was why you were sitting in the common room so late, with nothing to do?" asked Farrell, her mind nearly exploding with all of the information she had just consumed.   
  
"exactly," he said, reaching out a stick to hit the secret knot of the Whomping Willow.  
  
They walked through the hole and up the tunnel to the shrieking shack. Before they entered the room Sirius had told Harry to be, Harry removed the invisibility cloak and had Farrell stand back, just in case. He knocked on the door three times. In response, there was one knock from inside and Harry swung the door open, motioning for Farrell to wait.  
  
A tall man with cleanly cut black hair stood just inside, close enough for Farrell to see. Though when she looked at his eyes, she was startled. They had a look of something extinguished, like the burnt remains of logs after a fire has been put out. She saw Harry walk in, and he and Sirius greeted eachother with smiles and Sirius sat down.  
  
" Sirius, I've brought someone I'd like you to meet," said Harry.  
  
Sirius looked at him, confused, " Harry…you haven't told people of me, have you?"  
  
"Of course not, the person I've brought is a good friend of mine, just like Ron and Hermione, and I want you two to meet, seeing as you're the closest I have to family."  
  
Sirius just cocked his head to the side inquisitively.  
  
"You can come in now, " said Harry, smiling and beckoning Farrell into the room.  
  
Sirius shifted his gaze from Harry to the petite form by the door. Farrell slowly walked in, her gloved hands clasped together, her eyes glittering behind her reading glasses ( she'd forgotten to take them off in all this excitement).   
  
She stopped several feet in front of Sirius, gave a tiny smile and said, " hello, " in her softest voice.  
  
To Harry's immense surprise, Sirius went slightly pale and just gaped at Farrell like a ghost. Farrell could hear him say ," holy Merlin, " under his breath.  
  
Harry looked at Sirius, perplexed.   
  
" What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
"What's her name?, " asked Sirius, not taking his eyes off of Farrell.  
  
Farrell looked absolutely shocked, but looked right at Sirius.  
  
"My name is Farrell, sir. Farrell Branwen."  
  
Sirius stood, and walked closer to her, " You say your name is Branwen?"  
  
"Y-yes…," answered Farrell, wondering whether this man was fully sane.  
  
" and your name is not Betsy?"  
  
" no, sir. My name is Farrell, as I told you."  
  
Sirius sat down again, and whether he was sane or not again flittered through Farrell's mind as she watched him.   
  
" well…its just that…you're the spitting image of…a very old friend of mine, and you've the same name as a woman I once met at a party with James Potter…and, unless its sheer coincidence, you're her daughter, to be sure- you have the same eyes. "  
  
"what are you talking about, Sirius? Lots of people have eyes that look alike," said Harry.  
  
" If you looked at this girl's eyes, Harry- and I mean truly looked at them, you'd know that they're one of a kind….well…they used to be two of a kind, perhaps even three, but no more than that, I know."  
  
Harry looked at Farrell and nodded in agreement.   
  
Then he turned to face Farrell again, " Was your mother's name Betsy?"  
  
Farrell's eyes widened, " yes sir. Elizabeth."  
  
Sirius sighed. Then he clapped his hands together and gave Farrell a warm smile, " I'm so sorry I did that. It was disrespectful towards you. I apologize. It's nice to meet you, Farrell, I'm Sirius, " he said, extending his hand.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Sirius, " she replied shakily, taking his hand.   
  
From there on the conversation was typical for a while, school, work, and such. Then Harry brought up a topic that seemed to have been bothering him for some time.  
  
"Any leads with the death eaters?" Harry asked.  
  
"Funny you should ask," said Sirius, digging through his pocket," since we found something just today. Four or five of these ," he pulled a slip or parchment out of his pocket, " in a dark alley in London. They seem to be a prophecy of some type. We can't make heads or tails of it though."  
  
He handed Harry the parchment fragment and Farrell leaned in to read it.   
  
It read:  
  
Where strangers turn to blood  
And those relatives join up  
And on swift wings escape the flood  
But lose the treasure from their cup  
  
Where friends and foes must all unite  
To win the battle, fight the fight  
In this place of fear and pain  
The lightning child shall still remain  
  
He'll fight a battle, and win alone  
But the dark enemy has not gone  
To win the fight forevermore  
Lightning and seer together must soar  
Over the unseen town of which the treasure was for  
Over the city of forgotten folklore.  
  
  
Farrell quickly pulled a small notepad and quill from her pocket and copied it down.   
  
"I don't know, Sirius, it doesn't make any sense to me," said Harry, shrugging and handing the paper back to Sirius. Just then he glanced at his watch.  
  
"oh! We really have to go, Farrell, " Harry said.   
  
"Well, alright, goodbye, you two. Nice meeting you Farrell, " said Sirius. He gave Harry a hug and proceeded to put on his cloak.  
  
"Excuse me, Sirius, " said Farrell, still standing by the door.  
  
" Yes?" Sirius replied questioningly.  
  
" who was the old friend of yours you said I look like?"  
  
" well… actually you would know her, considering you go to Hogwarts. You're a spitting image of Minerva McGonagall at 16. though you're only fifteen, but one couldn't tell, you know?"  
  
"Professor McGonagall? Head of Gryffindor?"  
  
"That's her, " said Sirius with a smile, " but you should be going now, or you'll be discovered. Goodbye Farrell."  
  
"goodbye, " said Farrell as she ran down the passage to Harry, who was waiting for her.   
  
They walked back to the castle together and each went back to their dormitory for their hour or so of sleep before lessons.  
  
In the morning before breakfast, Ron walked down to meet Hermione as usual.   
  
Seeing that Harry wasn't with Ron, Hermione walked up to him and asked, " Ron, where's Harry?"  
  
"Oh, he looked horrible this morning, almost ill, so I left him alone. Where's Farrell?"  
  
"That's what's odd. She looked like she hadn't slept at all, so I left her, but put a spell over her bed so that her covers roll back and her drapes open. I wonder what she was doing all night…"  
  
Ron shrugged, " lets go."  
  
So Ron and Hermione headed down to the great hall. Half an hour later, Farrell woke rather unpleasantly by the morning sun in her eyes and her bed trying to make itself while she was in it. She jumped out of bed and saw the note on the bedside cabinet and put on her glasses to read it.   
  
Dear Farrell,  
Good morning! Come down to breakfast as soon as possible, but only if you feel well. If you're ill, just go to the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey will fix you up.  
  
See you in class,  
  
Hermione   
  
  
Farrell looked at her wristwatch and quickly jumped up and dressed. She grabbed her knapsack and ran up to the boys dorms.  
  
"hey Harry!!!!" she yelled through the wooden door. No answer came.  
  
" shnikes! Harry!! " she tried again. Finally she opened the door quietly and walked in to where Harry was sleeping.   
  
She softly tapped him and said as gently as she could, " Haaaarry….come on, we're going to be late…"  
  
He stirred and opened his eyes. At first he smiled and then he put his glasses on and turned beet red.  
  
" geez! Whaddya think you're doing?" he asked, getting up.  
  
" making sure you don't miss Transfiguration completely, lets go, you're making us late," she replied laughing, " I'll meet you in the common room, " she said as she raced down the stairs.  
  
Harry shook his head and dressed. He was down a minute later, still looking as groggy as he had the first moment he'd opened his eyes. Farrell didn't look much better, but she had her wits and sense of humor about her.  
  
" ah, prince charming emerges, " she joked and walked toward the portrait hole.  
  
All Harry had to say to that was, " hmph."  
  
When they plopped down in seats opposite Ron and Hermione, no one spoke, but Ron and Hermione just stared.  
  
Ron finally said, after they'd started to eat ," you two look like you've been trampled by a hippogriff."  
  
Hermione almost choked on her roll, this seemed so funny to her. Ron slammed her on the back with one of his hands and gave Harry the "I-think-she's-gone-insane-since-that-wasn't-funny" look. Harry just rolled his eyes and tried to revive himself a bit over some porridge. Farrell had a cup of tea and was back to whistling and being happy that they had transfiguration first- her normal self. When she watched Harry's head drooping towards his porridge bowl she decided not to stop him and let him have a bit of a wake up call. And that he did have. His head pitched forward and fell right into his bowl of goopy porridge with a little 'plop' sound. It took Harry a few seconds to realize his head was in a bowl of porridge, but when he did the result was spectacularly hilarious. He jerked upright with an " ACK!" and a whole bunch of spluttering noises. Ron, Hermione, Farrell, and just about everyone at the Gryffindor table was howling with laughter. Farrell was laughing so hard that it was difficult for her to hand Harry a napkin. After he'd wiped his face off, though he was blushing, he couldn't help but laugh too. Farrell noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that professor Dumbledore was laughing too.   
  
When Hermione regained her powers of speech, she said, " well Harry, now that you're awake, can we go to Transfiguration?" which sent them all off again. They staggered from the table, clutching their stomachs and walked off to Transfiguration.  
  
~  
  
After what she'd heard from Sirius she just couldn't look at Professor McGonagall the same way. She was constantly staring at her, and when their eyes met for some reason or another, she just couldn't look away out of curiosity. There was a familiarity with those eyes, but Farrell just couldn't place it. She didn't know how, since her mother died when she was 2 years old, but for some reason Professor McGonagall seemed to remind her of her mother.   
  
Almost every day, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Farrell sat in the library poring over huge books, trying to make sense of the prophecy they had received from Sirius ( Harry and Farrell had spent quite a long time explaining everything that had gone on in their brief meeting with Sirius). October, November, and half of December had passed, but they'd learned nothing. One day in mid-December, Hermione pointed out a notice on the wall of the Gryffindor common room. It was an invitation for all fourth years and above to attend the Yule ball. The four friends kind of shrugged it off, not quite thinking about it, since there was still ten days until the ball. One lazy day, five days later, Harry was just sitting around in the near empty common room, losing in chess to Ron, when it occurred to Harry that he was running out of time to ask someone to the ball.   
  
"Ron, who are you going to the ball with?" Harry asked, looking up at him after moving his knight.  
  
"Check. Oh, I don't know," said Ron, shrugging, " but I suppose we should get a move on and ask someone, or we won't have dates."  
  
Harry moved his king to the left, " good point…"  
  
"mhmmm….checkmate. I win," said Ron, grinning.  
  
"How unusual," said Harry as Hermione and Farrell walked down from the girls dormitory.  
  
Ron swiveled around, " Hey, Hermione, where are you going?" he said, seeing her head for the portrait hole.  
  
"oh, just out, " said Hermione, brushing one of her stray curls out of her eyes.  
  
Ron stood up, " can I come?"  
  
Hermione smiled, " sure."  
  
Ron and Hermione walked out of the portrait hole and out onto the grounds. Though the ground was covered in snow, and they were not in cloaks, just sweaters and such, they did not mind. They just smiled and laughed and had a good time.  
  
During a moment of silence, Ron looked over at Hermione.  
  
"Do you remember that fight we had after the Yule Ball last year?" he said.  
  
" yes"  
  
" I didn't mean any of it, and I know that I never apologize, but I was thinking about it recently and you were right."  
  
"right? Right about what?" Hermione said, confused.  
  
" you said that I should have asked you before Viktor. And unless he's coming with you this year, that's what I plan to do."  
  
Hermione blushed.  
  
"Will you come to the ball with me, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione smiled at him and bent down to the ground. Ron thought she was tying her shoe, but found that he was wrong when she stood and hit him in the chest with a snowball.   
  
"ARG! What was that for?" asked Ron, confused.  
  
"That was for being so pigheaded last Christmas, and this," she stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss, "is for being such a gentleman this Christmas."  
  
"So you'll come with me?" asked Ron, grinning.  
  
Hermione gave a laugh, nodded, and took Ron's hand in hers as they walked back to the castle.  
  
~  
  
  
Back in the Common Room, Farrell and Harry were playing their second game of chess. In the first game Farrell had creamed Harry within ten minutes. She wondered whether he was letting her win. Most likely. Then they were distracted by the sight of Ron and Hermione entering the common room. They were holding hands, Ron had remnants of a snowball on the front of his sweater, and they were both laughing. Ron looked at Harry and winked before sitting on the couch beside Hermione.   
  
Farrell looked at Harry, raised her eyebrows and whispered, " told you so."  
  
Harry grinned, moved his bishop and said, " Checkmate."  
~  
  
Harry awoke early the next morning and headed downstairs with a book and read by the fire. He watched the sun rise over the snow, and just as it lit the room well enough, Farrell emerged from the shadows. She flashed a small smile and handed him a folded piece of parchment before walking out of the common room.   
  
Harry curiously looked at the parchment, it was addressed to "Harry Potter," in neat, spiraling, calligraphy. When he flipped it over he found it to be sealed with green wax and stamped with the initials FMB. He broke the seal and gently unfolded the parchment. He drew in his breath in awe. On the paper before his eyes was the most beautiful painting he's ever seen. It was of him, only a few minutes ago, raising his head from his book to stare at the rising sun. He touched the painting softly. It was painted with oil paints, and they were dry. It was impossible to think that Farrell had drawn, painted, and let this picture dry within ten minutes. How could she? Then he noticed that underneath the picture, written in the same calligraphy as on the front, was, " Will you come to the ball with me?"   
  
Harry crept upstairs, grabbed a quill, piece of parchment, and wax seal and went back down. When he was finished with the parchment, he dropped something in it and sealed it, then walked down to breakfast. Farrell was sitting at the Gryffindor table alone, for there was just about no one in the Great Hall this early. She was so bored that had transfigured the milk jug into a little waltzing couple and the couple (rather the milk jug) was dancing up and down the table. Harry grinned and pulled out his wand. When the couple got to the far end of the table he made the letter stick to it. The couple traveled back to Farrell and she took the letter off of it. She absentmindedly turned the couple back into a milk jug and opened the letter. A small lily fell into her lap. She looked around to see if Harry was there, but she couldn't see him. She began to read the letter.  
  
Dear Farrell,  
  
How can you know me so well? We've only just met, but you can see me. Most people just assume things because I'm …well….I have a reputation. but….you can really see me. You can see the part of me that's invisible to everybody else. I'd love to go to the ball with you, you're the most amazing girl I've ever met.  
  
Yours truly,  
  
Harry Potter  
  
  
Farrell dropped the letter on the table, astonished. For a minute all she could do was stare at it. Then her open jaw turned to a tight lipped frown which transformed to a slightly curved line, which evolved to a tiny smirk that broke into a full out, beaming grin that made Farrell's face shine like she'd swallowed the sun.   



	4. chapter 4

  
  
Seeing the Invisible 4  
  
Disclaimer: as I have told you before, any places, characters, etc. that you recognize do not belong to me, and whatever is leftover is mine. Do not sue me please, my wallet is quite light.  
  
On Christmas morning, Farrell woke with the rising sun. On her bed was a small heap of wrapped gifts. She was completely dumbfounded, since she only usually got one gift- from Mrs. Fairfax, but this morning she found five. The first gift she opened was a pretty brown sweater ( HOW UNUSUAL! Not.) from Mrs. Fairfax, but for the first time ever her initials had been embroidered in curly writing on the front over the pocket. She had received a box wrapped in purple paper from Hermione- on the front it said " TWO CHARMS" which confused Farrell until she opened it. Inside were a book called, " Charms Made Easy!" and a bracelet with a little silver Pegasus on it. From Ron, who seemed to have tied into the charm bracelet idea with Hermione, gave her a charm shaped like a table with a tiny glass marble on top, so as to be a crystal ball. Harry gave her two things. One was a charm to go on her bracelet that he seemed to have made himself. It was a tiny pink rose that he'd shrunk to minute size, incased in glass, and set on a piece of silver wire. The second thing was a little golden ball. In the dimly lit room, Farrell squinted to see what it was for. It was a gold ball about the size of a muggle baseball, and for a moment Farrell thought that perhaps he'd stolen the snitch from the Gryffindor quidditch team. But when she picked up the ball and cupped it in her hands, it erupted with bright light and lit her dormitory as though all the shades were open and it was high noon. She found it amazing, but the people sharing her room did not.  
  
" What in the world…?"  
  
" goodness! Did we oversleep?"  
  
"Shut off that dratted light!"  
  
" COR- what's that?!"  
  
Farrell immediately dropped the ball on her bed and the light went out. She could hear her roommates going back to bed. Then Hermione came and sat beside her on the bed, rubbing her eyes groggily.  
  
" Farrell, what did you just do?" she whispered, yawning.  
  
"look," said Farrell, handing her the ball. Hermione took it, but as soon as she saw the light start to gain in intensity, she dropped it on the bed.   
  
"what is that?" she asked, staring at the ball.  
  
Farrell just shrugged in response. " Sorry, Hermione. You can go back to sleep now, if you like."  
  
"Nah, I'll open my gifts. You know, Farrell, that ball could be GREAT for waking people up, and amazing for practical jokes geared toward making people think they'd overslept."  
  
Farrell just nodded and went back to her bed. She still had a present there. It was a large black box, at least the size of a small table. It had a thick satin ribbon tied around it and on the front, in a little space for writing it just said, " Ms. Farrell Branwen". Curious, Farrell opened the box. Inside, under a layer of tissue paper, was a massive book. Farrell assumed, just by looking at it, that it must have been at least 4000 pages. It was titled, " Advanced Transfiguration: for those who are looking for the more challenging,". Beside the Transfiguration book was a leather bound journal, stamped with a lion on the front. A piece of parchment that lay above it read, " a log for your achievements in Transfiguration,". Farrell was shocked that anyone would buy her such nice transfiguration supplies, and especially shocked that they would support her fooling around in uncharted areas of magic. She searched for a card, but could find nothing. Then when she opened to the first page of " Advanced Transfiguration" a small note fell into her lap. She picked it up and read it. It said:  
  
Don't worry, I know you can handle it. If you doubt yourself, just ask for help.  
  
~M.M  
  
Farrell looked at the letter for a second before almost yelling, " HERMIONE!"   
  
~  
  
That night before the ball, while Hermione and Farrell were in their dorm room, Farrell was sitting on her bed. She'd taken an afternoon nap, and what she'd dreamed of had been horrific. She couldn't remember it all, it seemed so vague, but she remembered crashing surf and lightning, but not where they should have been. Usually crashing surf and lightning would be in an ocean during a storm, but in her dream, the waves and lightning were inside. She remembered a certain image of a huge wave of water rolling through a hallway, knocking portraits off the walls and picking up people in its wake. So now, sitting on her bed in her dress robes, and watching the thick clouds solidify into a blanket of smoky gray in the sky, did not raise her spirits. Though excited about going to a ball, fear and anxiety troubled her mind. When it was time to go, she tried her best to push the dream to the back of her mind.   
  
~  
  
Down in the common room before the ball, Harry and Ron sat , playing their usual game ( re-named "massacre" by Harry) of chess until suddenly, not even saying "checkmate" Ron stood. Hermione had come down the girl's staircase. Upon turning around, Harry understood why Ron had stood up. Probably because fainting while standing is much more impressive than fainting while sitting down. Hermione had long robes of flowing purple satin, and she had tamed her usually frizzy hair into perfect ringlets. If Harry hadn't given Ron a nudge and pushed him toward his date, Ron most likely would have stood there gawking at her all night long. Ron walked off and joined Hermione, and as they walked through the portrait hole Harry heard Hermione saying, " Farrell will be down in a minute, and we'll meet you in the Great Hall," over her shoulder.  
  
Harry chuckled and looked down, putting the wizard chess pieces back into their box. Suddenly, he felt two small, slender hands slip off his glasses and cover his eyes.  
  
"Guess who?" said a voice somewhere above him.  
  
" hm…Ron?" Harry replied jokingly before slipping between the arms of the person hiding his eyes, and grabbing his glasses back.  
  
When he put on his glasses and looked back up, what he saw before him made him want to take off his glasses to make sure he wasn't going insane. Farrell had to be the only person in all of Hogwarts to be wearing patterned dress robes. She had white dress robes with thick tan Celtic knots on them, and between the thick lines of tan, were very fine outlines of the knots in gold thread. Her long black hair hung down to the small of her back, and was held back from her face with gold barrettes.  
  
When Harry stopped smiling like an idiot he looked right at her and said," well, Ron, I think that brown is definitely your color," laughing even before he could finish. Farrell rolled her eyes and laughed while she took his hand and walked to the door.   
  
As they passed the windows to the outside on the way to the Great Hall, Farrell could feel dread tugging down on her heart as she saw the rain pouring down in heavy sheets. Even though she sensed disaster, she tried to put on a smile for Harry. When they reached the hall, they saw that dinner was nearly over. They sat with Ron and Hermione and ate, talking about the usual things and laughing about trivial matters. Farrell did not join in during the fun, and tried her best to give a chuckle when they laughed, but could do no better than a dry giggle and a bit of grimace that replaced her usually bright smile.   
  
When they began the dancing, Farrell's head pounded with dismay as the trepidation reached a climax. Resting her head on Harry's shoulder, she squeezed her eyes shut. Harry saw her face out of the corner of his eye and was startled. He gently touched the side of her face with his hand.  
  
" Come on now, " he said softly, " am I really that bad of a dancer?"  
  
Farrell just bit her lip and shook her head.  
  
"What's wrong? You've been odd like this all night," said Harry, concerned.   
  
Farrell sighed and shook her head again, " I-I don't feel well..," then she broke apart from Harry and gave him a kiss on the cheek, " I'll be back, I'm going to the bathroom."  
  
When Farrell arrived in the bathroom, she was surprised to see that the only other person in there was Professor McGonagall, who was unpinning her bun so that her long hair hung to her waist. The odd thing was that it wasn't black as usual. It was neon pink.   
  
" those boys are really going to get it this time…pranking another student is bad enough, but a teacher!" she muttered upper her breath as she waved her wand around and around, slowly turning the ends of her hair black.  
  
Farrell couldn't help but laugh, the only true laugh that had emerged from her mouth all night. Professor McGonagall spun around.   
  
"oh! Miss Branwen, I didn't see you."  
  
"Hello Professor. Do you want some help?"   
  
Professor McGonagall just gave her a grateful look as Farrell slowly circled around her, turning her pink hair to black again. Just as they were about to leave the bathroom, screaming could be heard outside the door. Professor McGonagall flung it open and looked outside. For the split second it was open, Farrell and professor McGonagall could see a massive wave barreling its way down the corridor, throwing students and staff under water in its wake. Professor McGonagall immediately threw the door shut and magically sealed it into the wall. For a few minutes Farrell just stood there, staring at the closed door, a frightened expression on her face. She'd dreamed this would happen…she'd actually been dreading it and now…here it was.   
  
Suddenly, Farrell looked up, " I have an idea, but you'll need to give me a hand, " she said, walking into one of the toilet stalls.   
  
"What kind of an idea?"  
  
Farrell kicked down the stall door, knocking it from its hinges. "We're going to fly out of here. Help me put some wings on this, " she said, indicating towards the door.   
  
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, " You mean to say we'll be flying through the window?"   
  
"Yep," replied Farrell, watching an enormous white wing begin to sprout from her side of the door.   
  
Within another minute, two huge white wings were attached to the door and flapping against the tiled floor of the ladies room. Professor McGonagall and Farrell climbed onto the door and Professor McGonagall steered it from the rear while Farrell shot a spell towards the large glass window, shattering it. They sailed through and out into the pounding gale on their flying door.  
  
When they arrived outside they saw several people on broomsticks, diving down to rescue drowning students and staff and return them to the roof. Those closest were Madame Hooch, Professor Dumbledore, and the Weasley Twins. Below, their heads incased in bubbles, were Professors Lupin and Sprout, diving down and pulling people to the surface. Up on the roof, Madame Pomfrey, Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick were strolling about, giving out blankets and medication, and taking roll. Far off in the distance, Farrell could see the lake. It was completely drained. Someone had emptied the lake into the castle. That was the origin of the flood.  
  
Upon seeing Professor McGonagall and Farrell on the flying door, Professor Dumbledore flew over, being blown sideways by the strong wind. His long white hair whipped into his face, wet from the rain, and he looked grave and pale under his soaked hood.  
  
"Come here," he shouted over the storm, " Follow us and look for the swimming people. We'll dive and get them!"   
  
McGonagall nodded to him show that she understood and steered the door to where they were headed.   
  
Until after morning broke, and the rain subsided and the flood was drained (as was the castle, followed by a very difficult drying spell), Farrell and McGonagall searched for the drowning people. Just as the first rays of sunlight danced on the wet grounds of Hogwarts, Farrell dropped off to sleep right there on the flying door. Professor McGonagall, thinking it cruel to just drop her in her empty dorm after all the work she'd done, took Farrell back to her quarters and wrapped her in quilts on the sofa.  
  
~  
  
Hours later, when the sun was high in the clear sky, Farrell's hazel eyes snapped open. She sat straight up. To her immense surprise, sitting opposite her in a large blue armchair, dressed in jeans and a sweater, was Professor Lupin. When he saw her staring at him, he looked up from the test papers he was grading, gave her a smile and said, " Good morning, Farrell. How are you?"  
  
Farrell looked at him, bewildered, " er…alright, sir. If you don't mind my asking…where am I?"  
  
A voice above her answered, " This is where we live, Branwen, " Farrell looked up to see Professor McGonagall, handing her a cup of tea. Farrell didn't even move for a minute, trying to process what she saw and heard. Above her was a completely different Professor McGonagall than she'd ever imagined. If she hadn't called her Branwen, Farrell would have thought she was someone else. The woman in front of her looked as if she could be a mother, she seemed so laid back. She was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a plaid shirt, her long black hair hanging down her back, held out of her face with a red headband.   
  
When Farrell finally got her voice back, she took the tea with a grateful smile and raised an eyebrow. "We?"  
  
Lupin and McGonagall exchanged a surprised glance.  
  
"Well, that's odd …thought this would have gotten around by now…" said Professor Lupin.  
  
"what?"  
  
"Branwen, we're married. That's why we live together."  
  
Farrell looked down at her cup, embarrassed, "whoops, " she said softly.  
  
At that time, Professor Lupin looked at his watch, " oh! Min, I've got to go. Dumbledore needs to see me," he said, pulling on his robes and smiling at Professor McGonagall before he walked out the door.   
  
After Professor Lupin left, McGonagall left the room and came back with a blue wooden box. Then she pulled the blue armchair closer to the couch on which Farrell sat and plopped down in it, the box on her lap.   
  
" Branwen…er…Farrell, there's something I need to talk to you about."  
  
"Professor if this has to do with turning that Slytherin's books into-  
  
"shh…no it's not about misbehavior. Its something er…personal, " at this Farrell raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, listening. " Farrell…how well did you know your mother?"  
  
Farrell scrunched up her nose in concentration. " not too well at all, really. She passed away when I was about two or so. I haven't got any pictures of her, but I remember she looked like I do now, and she was very thin and quite beautiful. But I don't know barely anything about her life. "   
  
" Well, its very hard for me to explain this to you Farrell… but…"  
  
"what- are you my mum or something?"  
  
" no, of course not. Here, " said professor McGonagall, opening the wooden box and taking out the picture she'd looked at before and handing it to Farrell.  
  
Farrell looked at the snapshot in her hands, at the tall black haired girl with ice blue eyes. Her eyes skimmed over the small redheaded woman with hazel eyes, and over the tiny girl with long black hair and hazel eyes, just like her.   
  
Professor McGonagall leaned over and pointed to the tall girl with amazing blue eyes, " That's my mother. Stella Branwen," and then she pointed to the little toddle in the grass with the huge hazel eyes, " and that," she said looking into Farrell's eyes, " is your mother." Then professor McGonagall flipped over the photo and read the back.  
  
Farrell stared at the photo, amazed. She absentmindedly dropped it on the floor, her eyes wide in shock.  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled when Farrell looked up at her, " Hallo Farrell," She said, holding out her hand, " I'm Minerva, your cousin."  
  
Farrell looked at the hand that was being offered to her. Just as Professor McGonagall thought she'd run away, frightened, Farrell jumped up and, completely contrary to Minerva's prediction, gave her a huge hug.   



	5. chapter 5

Seeing the Invisible 5-   
  
Disclaimer: Everything you are familiar with from the HP books obviously belongs to J.K Rowling. Anything else (along with this ridiculous plot) is mine. Thank you for reading, please please please review.  
  
Professor Dumbledore paced his study ( that he had magically dried out and pieced back together), holding an empty glass jar that looked very old, due to the fact that the glass was completely fogged with minute scratches. Wand in one hand, the jar in the other, Dumbledore circled the desk, pausing every so often to add a thought to his penseive. Finally, after ages of pacing and thinking, he dropped the jar on his chair and hurtled off to the library.  
  
~  
  
Late in the afternoon, Farrell returned to the Gryffindor common room, torn between fear of bad news about her friends and fellow students, and joy about having found a member of her family at last. The fear easily conquered the joy, and when it truly hit her, she ran full speed down the hallway. Unfortunately, (or rather, quite fortunately for Farrell) she ran headlong into someone at top-notch speed.   
  
" ARG!"  
  
"OW!"   
  
Farrell looked up, rubbing her head, but to her delight, the person she'd knocked into (for the second time in a year) was Harry. She flung herself on him, holding him tightly.  
  
"Farrell?"   
  
"Harry! I was so worried, we didn't see you come out of the water, I couldn't find you or Ron or Hermione anywhere, I...I thought you'd drowned," she cried, trying to compose herself but failing horribly.  
  
"Shh...don't get upset. We're all fine. We were scared to death about you, though. You weren't on the roll list and you didn't show up in the dorm and I was just on my way to McGonagall's office to report you missing. Where were you?" said Harry, trying to calm her down.   
  
Farrell sniffed and leaned back, " I'm surprised you didn't notice us. Min- er.. McGonagall and I created a flying contraption out of a bathroom door and flew through the storm, pointing out the swimming people to the rescuers on broomsticks."  
  
"well, if I'd seen that I would have known. But I was quite busy trying to stay afloat when George Weasley came and yanked me out of the water. I'm pretty sure that I was unconscious for most of the night."   
  
Then Harry stood up and took Farrell's hand, leading her back to the common room. On the way there, he told her of how Hermione and Ron had actually been outside in the courtyard at the time, so they could see the inside of the hall filling with water, and took that as their hint to get out of there quick, knowing there was nothing to be done by going inside and drowning themselves. So they had ran all the way to the quidditch pitch and taken two old shooting stars from the broom shed, gotten on them, and rode up to the rooftop. That was how Fred and George had gotten brooms on which to rescue people on.   
  
When they arrived in the common room, it was packed full of people. Professor Flitwick and Nearly Headless Nick were patrolling around, helping with what they could. When they got there, Ron and Hermione were waiting for them at the door. Upon seeing the two of them, Farrell burst into laughter.   
  
They were both wrapped in huge quilts, and Hermione was holding a goblet. The part that made Farrell laugh was the fact that from under each side of Ron's fiery red hair (rather spiky from drying wet and uncombed like that) sprouted two thick streams of smoke. Hermione hadn't seemed to have drank her whole potion, so from her ears emerged wispy little curls of steam.   
  
"yes, well, hello to you too, Farrell," said Ron, looking at Farrell, doubled over in laughter.  
  
When she regained her voice she gave them each a hug and said, " I'm so glad you're alright. Harry told me about what you did. It was very brave."   
  
Ron beamed as Hermione rolled her eyes, " well, if you expect me to get on one of those ridiculous flying sticks again you're quite mistaken," she said, though she was clearly proud of doing it anyway.   
  
When they began to talk again, Farrell remembered what she'd been so excited to tell them before. As usual, she remembered this right during a pause between people's sentences so she just jumped up and said, " Oh!"   
  
Startled at the sudden noise, Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped too.   
  
"Hermione, is the girls dorm empty now?" asked Farrell, bouncing with anticipation.   
  
Hermione nodded, confused. Farrell grabbed Harry's arm in one hand, and Ron (who was holding onto Hermione)'s in the other and practically dragged them up the girls staircase.  
  
"Farrell! What're you on about?" asked Ron, rubbing his wrist after she'd released him.   
  
"just wait a minute," said Farrell, hanging a sign on the front of the door that read, "temporarily closed for cleaning," and locking in from the inside.   
  
Then they all sat down at the feet of separate beds and Farrell rummaged in her pocket and retrieved a photo. It was the same photo that professor McGonagall had showed her earlier that day. As they all leaned in to look at it, Farrell began to explain everything Professor McGonagall had told her in her quarters.   
  
When she'd finished, Ron's eyebrows were raised so high they almost touched his hairline, Hermione's mouth was wide open, and Harry just grinned ear to ear.  
  
"That's great!" said Harry," You've got some family after all!"   
  
"Yea, " added Ron," some family- your transfiguration teacher no doubt."   
  
Hermione still hadn't said anything. It looked as if she was thinking so hard smoke would start to come out of her ears again.   
  
Out of the blue she jumped up with a gasp, "oh my!," she said, her hand flying up to her mouth as she ran to her bedside.  
  
Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry, "do you reckon she'll throw up?"  
  
Farrell overheard this and gave Ron a flick on the side of the head.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione dashed back, holding the piece of paper on which the prophecy that they'd gotten from Sirius was written.   
  
"look!" she pointed to the first three lines of the prophecy, " Where strangers turn to blood, and those relatives join up, and on swift wings escape the flood," she read, looking up at Farrell, Ron, and Harry.   
  
They all just kind of looked at her sideways, waiting for an explanation.  
  
" don't you see!?" she said loudly," McGonagall and Farrell were strangers that turned to family- blood- and joined up to make a door with WINGS to escape the flood!"  
  
The three of them gasped in unison.   
  
"but have you got a treasure in a cup, Farrell?" asked Ron.  
  
"Not that I'm aware of," replied Farrell, frowning.   
  
~  
  
In a ruined stone shack, lit only by a single candle, two dark figures jumbled together to keep their voices low.  
  
"Wormtail, things are coming along just as I'd planned," said a shrill voice, cackling wickedly, as two sharp, white, bony digits fingered a golden key that glinted in the dim light, "we must retrieve the Seer, and our task is all but completed. And when it is, Wormtail, when it is completed, I will be all powerful, and all, even that doddering old fool, Dumbledore, will fall at my fingertips."   
  
"Yes, Master, we shall find the Seer, and you shall be the most powerful being to ever grace the earth," simpered a second voice.  
  
The only response to that was a high, piercing laugh, mirthless and cruel.  
  
  



	6. chapter 6

  
  
Seeing the Invisible 6  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable, but please do not steal what little things are mine. Thank you for your time- enjoy!  
  
  
~   
  
Knock. Knock. Knock.  
  
  
The hollow tapping of knuckles on wood roused Dumbledore from his reading.   
  
"Come in," he said hoarsely before looking down to the stacks of volumes that lay open on his desk.  
  
The door gently swung open and the bespectacled eyes of Minerva McGonagall peered around the entrance to the headmaster's study.   
  
"Are you busy?" she asked softly, careful not to disturb him too much.  
  
Dumbledore sighed, snapped the thick, leather bound book shut, and looked up, rubbing his reddened eyes.  
  
"Too busy for my own good, though with lack of sufficient progress," he said, trying to laugh, but only managing a weary smile, " oh, do come in Minerva."   
  
Minerva came around the edge of the door, revealing a tray of dinner she'd been carrying for him. She set it upon the desk and sat down.  
  
"I've brought you some dinner," she said, indicating to the tray," you know, Albus, you've cooped yourself up in here for three days straight. Have you slept or eaten? You don't look well at all," said Minerva, her voice growing stricter with concern.  
  
"Thank you, Minerva, but I'm sure I'll be fine. We've much more to worry about now than my health," he said in a flat kind of voice, shaking a scratched, empty glass jar at her.  
  
" Such as what? And what is that?" she asked, examining the jar in his gnarled old hand. She looked closer, staring at the jar, calculating predictions and thoughts in her head, her brow furrowing in concentration. Finally, understanding dawned on her face, and she paled with shock.  
  
" The key…"  
  
"Yes, Minerva. The key to the unseen city is missing."  
  
"But why would anyone take the key? It is of no use without knowing the whereabouts of the city itself," asked Minerva, looking intently at the ancient glass jar.   
  
"Obviously someone has located it. And from what I've read," said Dumbledore, nodding towards the stacks of volumes that cluttered his desk," that can only be a bad occurrence."  
  
~   
  
In the girls' dormitory, in the dead of the night, Farrell rolled over in her bed, tangled in the sheets, feeling uncomfortable and annoyed. No matter what she did, there was a dull feeling of foreboding lingering in the back of head.   
  
"What in heaven's name could I be dreading?" she thought to herself, aggravated with her behavior, " Life couldn't be better! I have friends, family, good marks…I mean…what could it be!"   
  
After a few more minutes of restlessness she sighed and stepped out of bed, pulling on a robe over her pajamas, and a cloak over that. Farrell tiptoed down the girls' staircase and out of the common room. She was considering heading down to the kitchens for a cup of tea, or perhaps up to professor McGonagall's study, she was always working now, and never minded Farrell's company.   
  
But on her way to the kitchen a thought flew into her head. It was almost a command of sorts. It was an image of the quidditch pitch, clear as daylight. She turned right around and started towards the entrance hall and out of the castle.   
  
  
  
  
  
Shivering in the freezing wind, Farrell stood on the quidditch pitch, mentally unaware of the cold. Her mind was consumed by the image of the pitch itself, though she knew not why. She suddenly found a small silver triangle sitting in front of her on the ground. As she looked at it, the thought that flooded her head was " Touch the top" and she obeyed. She stretched her hand out and laid her finger on the tip of the small pyramid. Instantly, Farrell was shocked with a wave of pain. The throbbing pain welled up in her stomach and burst in ripples of agony up through her chest and neck and head, shining out through her eyes in the form of light. Her eyes misted over until they were completely white, and though she could not see her surroundings, she saw much more.   
  
In her mind, a hunched dark figure stood before her. He stretched out his gaunt arm and a ghastly white hand emerged from the sleeve of his robe. Two long, sharp fingers bent in a beckoning fashion, sucking her in with a magnetic force. Through his thick hood, Farrell could feel his red eyes burning into hers. Though her eyes were fogged over, she could feel the heat of the creature's blazing pupils in hers. Then, like a call in the darkness, a thought penetrated her captive mind.   
  
"Conquer"  
  
The word sounded in her mind like a gunshot, and she clenched her teeth in rage. From the edges of the scene in her mind, a hazel mist drifted in, quickly engulfing the figure and his painful, burning stare. Farrell's eyes returned to their hazel color and she saw the darkened pitch once more, but the pyramid was gone. She swayed on the spot, drained of energy. Her eyelids fluttered and she fainted, falling into the grass.   
  
~  
The hooded black figure walked into a room, his robes billowing behind him. Before him sat two death eaters who rose as he entered.   
  
"I've found her," said the cloaked figure.   
  
One of the two men, a short, rather plump one said, " Who, master? Who did you find?"  
  
The figure glared at the plump man from behind his hood, " The Seer, you insolent fool. Whom did you think I was referring to?" said the dark man in a cutting tone.  
  
"How long shall it be now, Master?" said the other man with an angular face and blonde hair.  
  
"Not long, Lucius. Though she is strong, we can break her, just as the rest. And through her, we shall rid ourselves of that meddling fool, Dumbledore, and his little wonder boy…Harry Potter."  
  
"Yes, Master," chorused the two men in unison.  
  
" And the rewards," said the sinister creature," shall be great."  
  
And following these words, a high, piercing cackle sliced through the silence.  
  
  
  
(a/n: sorry so short, but I can't just have a foreshadowing session with the dark lord in the middle of a chapter, can I ? yea, I didn't think so. Well, thanks for reading- but could you all please review? I mean, I'm not one of those people who will say, " I'm not writing the next chapter until I get 15 reviews" just because that is mean. But I'm sure I'd write faster if I had them. I just want to know how I'm doing! Thanks to Rosie (tellytubby, and so on) for the great suggestions, and to Taymer Gowdil and Athena McGonagall for always reviewing. Thank you!)  



	7. chapter 7

Seeing the Invisible 7  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings that are described in any of the Harry potter books. ::smiles hopefully:: don't sue me please!  
  
~  
  
Harry opened his eyes and looked out the window, smiling at the beginnings of illumination over the horizon that would soon be the rising sun. It was a weekend, so no one else had woken up yet. He shrugged and swung his legs off the bed, quietly getting up. Harry grabbed his robes and broom and headed off to the quidditch pitch. Walking through the frozen grass in morning twilight, Harry hummed softly to himself, thinking of diversionary tactics and field scanning. The first light of morning penetrated the thick mist that rose off of the grounds. Through the fog, Harry saw a glimpse of black, conspicuously contrasting with the white snow. Peering through his hazy glasses, his eyes focused on the black shape. It was a human figure, sprawled on the ground. Facing him in the distance lay a girl in a white nightshift, her bathrobe, and a black cloak. Her slippers were farther off than they should have been, and she lay barefoot in the ice, ravens flying overhead. Her face was pale as a sheet, though her eyelids and lips were purple. Though he was far away from her, a small hint of recognition lingered in his mind.   
  
"No, it couldn't be…" he thought, fear gripping his throat. His eyes grew wide and he thought for less than a second before dropping his broom and sprinting towards the girl.  
  
Harry dropped to his knees at her side, shaking her, an uncertain and frightened not in his voice, " Farrell, Farrell wake up! Farrell!!"  
  
Harry leaned down and listened for a heartbeat. A very soft, unsteady beating sounded in her chest. He swiftly lifted her and ran back to his broom, hoisting her onto it in front of him and zooming towards the castle. He didn't even stop flying when he reached the corridors, just bent his head and flew low. Unfortunately, it wasn't too early for some people to be awake.   
  
"Potter! What in the world do you think you're doing!" bellowed Professor McGonagall's voice from in front of him. Harry skidded to a halt in midair.  
  
"Professor, its- well, I have to- er…- LOOK!" he stammered, pointing at the unconscious Farrell.   
  
Harry was shocked to see how quickly Professor McGonagall set her books on the floor and ran toward them.   
  
She touched Farrell's ice-cold hand and softly said, "Farrell…" under her breath. Then Professor McGonagall looked up at Harry and said, " Potter, get to the hospital wing, but watch out for the doors. Go," she said looking at Harry's astonished face, " NOW!"   
  
And with that, Harry sped off, McGonagall running behind him.   
  
~  
  
Three hours later, once day had truly broken, Harry and Professor McGonagall sat at the side of a white cot, on which Farrell lay. Thanks to Madam Pomfrey, Farrell's health was restored, her color normal once more, though her feet and hands were bandaged (frostbite). Harry's eyes blinked open, he had fallen asleep again waiting for Farrell to wake. Beside him, Professor McGonagall had drifted off herself. Harry looked to Farrell, a strand of her ebony hair falling across her closed eyes. He reached forward and brushed it out of her face. For a moment, Harry's shaking hand lingered on her hair, and Farrell's eyes snapped open. She sat up with a jump that startled Harry and woke Professor McGonagall.  
  
" Where is he!?" she shouted, staring around wildly, her back and neck rigid.   
  
Professor McGonagall gently pushed her back into her pillows and said softly, "Calm down, Farrell, no one is here." Behind her, Harry stared, eyes wide in shock.  
  
"Minerva, where is he!??! The man with the red eyes!" shrieked Farrell, fighting against Professor McGonagall's strong hands, a manic look of fear in her eyes.   
  
"Shhh…. You must have been having a nightmare. Everything will be fine," he said kindly, helping to hold her back.   
  
Farrell squiggled around, thrashing in her sheets. " You don't understand! He's coming! Coming for me!! He's going to use me to do something bad! I know it, I can see it in my head. I can hear him talking when I sleep, and sometimes when I'm awake- this man, he wants me to help him open something. He came for me last night! He forced me out onto the pitch! I couldn't fight! There was a-a-a….a triangle thing and he-  
  
Professor McGonagall put her hand softly over Farrell's mouth, saying, " ssshh…don't excite yourself,"  
  
Farrell bit her hand and grabbed her by the shoulders, " Minerva! Don't you get it? This guy is going to come, and then we'll all be dead! DEAD! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!" screamed Farrell, her eyes flicking around the room. Harry and Professor McGonagall were staring at her as though she'd gone mad (which, of course, they certainly thought she had).   
  
"Harry, please believe me- its true! I wouldn't lie to you, I promise, Harry, I would never lie to you, I wouldn't because I-  
  
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey couldn't take it any more; she tapped Farrell on the head with her wand, putting her back to sleep.   
  
Harry stared at Farrell, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then walked out of the room, numb with disbelief. When he arrived in the common room, he sought out Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Harry! Where were you? We've been looking for you for hours," said Ron, upon seeing him.  
  
"In the hospital wing," replied Harry in a monotone, flopping onto a couch.   
  
"Are you all right?" asked Hermione, concerned.  
  
"Fine," answered Harry, his voice flat.  
  
Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance.  
  
"Then what's wrong?" Ron asked, confused, " and where is Farrell?"  
  
"Farrell's in the hospital wing, that's what's wrong, and I'm sure things could be better," said Harry, looking down.  
  
"What? Why is Farrell in the hospital wing? How did she get there?"  
  
"Well, she's there because I found her on the quidditch pitch, laying unconscious in the snow, and I took her there, but…well, I think it's a bit more complicated now," replied Harry, sighing.  
  
" Complicated? What are you on about, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked up, and Ron was startled by the troubled look in his eyes.  
  
"She's mad. There's nothing else to it. When she woke she was yelling at us about how she- how she was lured onto the quidditch pitch by a red-eyed man who spoke to her in her dreams and was going to use her to…was going to use her to kill us all," Harry said, speaking in a low voice and biting his lip as he stared towards the floor.  
  
Ron and Hermione were blown away by this news. For several minutes they just sat in silence, staring at one another.   
  
~  
Word spread over the next week that a fifth year Gryffindor had gone insane and was lying in the hospital wing and only woke to have screaming fits. People crowded at the door of the hospital wing, trying to peek in and find out if the rumor was true. Finally, Farrell decided that she needed to get up and move around, she couldn't hide from her life in the hospital wing forever. She begged Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey to let her go, but it was several weeks before she could prove to them that she could leave. Though voices still haunted her mind, she could control her mouth and temper, and returned to Gryffindor Tower. During her stay in the hospital wing, she had refused to eat for a large amount of time, making her look pale and gaunt, like a ghost almost. She frightened most of the people who she'd usually be on good terms with, and she herself was frightened to go near Ron, Harry, and Hermione, for fear of something happening to her, making her hurt them.   
  
For months, Farrell skidded around her former best friends in the halls and sat as far from them in classes and at meals as she could. She rarely went to see Professor McGonagall, though when she did, it was only for a brief period, and they just discussed schoolwork in a dim, expressionless way. Minerva worried about her, but didn't want to say anything. If you had known the girl she was before, you would have thought someone was lying if they'd told you who Farrell Branwen was now. Her face was dark and expressionless, as though it was hewn from rock, and her eyes no longer shone with interest and merriment, but flickered with a flame of constant fear. Even in the frozen weather and swirling snow, Harry would watch Farrell march to the lake every day after her lessons and just stare into the water for hours.   
  
During the first few weeks that Farrell had gone "mad" Harry missed her greatly, and pitied her. Though now, in late May, Harry's pity was replaced with fury. He cursed her for leaving them, for acting as though she did not know Ron, Hermione, and himself, or for hating them. For the last couple of months, Harry had been colder than he would have towards Farrell, ignoring her completely, or glaring at her during class. Ron questioned his behavior, but Harry pretended that he did not know what Ron meant. Though he thought he hated Farrell, that was only a shell. Inside, he longed to run towards her and hug her as he did before, he yearned to see her smile, but would not show his disappointment.   
  
Several days later, in the middle of the night, Harry woke with a start. He had heard a noise from downstairs. He pulled on his invisibility cloak and headed down the stairs.  
  
In the chair that was closest to the fire, someone was curled up. Someone in khaki pants and a brown sweater who was softly sobbing, head hidden in her arms. Her small, gaunt frame shook with sobs and her pale fingers clutched the arm of the chair. Recognition flickered in Harry's eyes. He recognized this girl as one who used to be his friend, who he used to love, this girl who used to be the Farrell that he knew. For a moment Harry completely forgot about hating her and was ready to rush forward and hold her. But then he remembered.   
  
A piece of parchment lay on the floor beside her chair. Harry slowly moved forward and picked it up, hoping Farrell wouldn't see. Luckily for Harry, she wasn't thinking about invisible people stealing her personal letters at that very moment.   
  
The letter read:  
  
Dear Miss Branwen,  
  
It is with great regret that I must inform you that Longtree Magical Orphanage has been destroyed by Lord Voldemort. Unfortunately, no one survived the attack. We will arrange a place for you to stay once the term has ended. My apologies. If you need to talk to someone, do not hesitate to ask. Enclosed in the letter is a locket that was left in the pocket of Miriam Fairfax. I thought you might like it.   
  
Sincerely,  
  
Professor Dumbledore  
  
Harry instantly felt horrible, guilt sweeping over his insides as he looked to Farrell one more. She was no longer sobbing, but silent tears streamed down her face as she fastened a silver locket around her neck. Closing her eyes, she leaned back into the chair and spoke aloud.  
  
" Potter, I-I know its you. I can hear you. Please…" she seemed to be unable to find her voice for a moment. She took a breath and started again in a very soft voice, " please leave me…I couldn't bear to hurt you."   
  
With that, Farrell rose again and ran up to her dormitory, picking up the letter on her way, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. 


	8. chapter 8

Seeing the Invisible 8  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but Farrell, Longtree Orphanage, Mrs. Fairfax, and my plot. Please do not steal anything that I forgot to mention. Anything that is recognizable from the Harry Potter book series belongs to J.K Rowling.  
  
After the message that the letter from Dumbledore had born, Farrell became, if it was possible, even more distant with people. She hid behind her glasses and a thick woolen scarf all day, and as soon as her lessons were finished, she went straight to the lake, not returning to the common room until after midnight. She was lost in her own world of sorrow and grief, not allowing anyone to get through to her. She no longer visited Professor McGonagall (which was the reason she stopped Farrell in the halls for a quick conversation between classes), Professor Lupin frequently asked her if she was ill, she only spoke when asked questions in class, and she ate very little. During meals in the great hall she sat at the very edge of the deserted end of the Gryffindor table, often having an open book in front of her while she picked at her food.   
  
Harry often watched her from his end of the table, staring down at her, half of him feeling horrible for his behavior and wanting to go talk, and the other half saying ,"to hell with her, let her deteriorate while she's living- she's making a good start." He was torn mentally, and didn't know what to do.  
  
For weeks, nothing changed. Farrell did well in all of her classes, though outside of them, there was nothing keeping her alive. Rumors darted through the halls of Hogwarts on the tongues of gossiping students. They told of a 5th year Gryffindor who wasn't really human at all. A student that wasn't human, but skeleton, who spent its nights crying by the lake, and its days buried in books. Farrell herself overheard these rumors, but could only laugh.   
  
~  
  
One afternoon in March, during a quidditch match, Farrell found herself to be the only one in the common room. Though this pleased her slightly, she still felt vaguely unhappy about being alone, although she was nearly used to it by now. She was afraid to be alone with herself, because the dreams kept coming back. Even when she wasn't asleep, visions of the man in the hooded cloak and his many masked servants haunted her mind. Pulling aside the thick curtains of the common room window, she looked out over the grounds to the quidditch pitch. She watched the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams soar above the field, the balls rise and plummet on their own accord.   
  
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glimmer on the edge of the forest. She closed her eyes. Before her flashed a trio of images, quick and horrific. The first was the red-eyed man, flanked by fifty or so of his followers, appearing on the quidditch field. The second was crowds running frantically, a scene of chaos, from the men on the field. The third image was that of a boy on a broomstick, level with the red-eyed man who hovered in midair, both of them glaring with wands raised.   
  
Farrell's eyes snapped open. She looked out of the window again. The faint glimmer of blackness on the muddy grounds had moved closer to the pitch. For a moment, Farrell stood, frozen with fear, by the window, her throat constricting as though squeezed by an invisible noose. Then her eyes widened even more and she sprung up, picking up her wand and Mary (a/n: member Mary? The transfiguration mouse?). She turned Mary into a broom and knocked the window open, hopping on. She flew out of the window, but she was too late. She saw the twinkle of black once more, but it was only strides away from the pitch. Within 30 seconds her first vision had come true. From her place in midair, inching ever closer, she watched the men formulate on the field. As she urged her broom to go faster, she saw pandemonium break out among the stands, the crowds of panicking students and staff fleeing the field.   
  
"If what I'd seen is correct…" she thought, scanning the sky, " there should be a boy on a broomstick somewhere…" Just then, her eyes clicked into focus on a figure in the sky.   
  
It was Harry.   
  
She screeched to a halt in midair, immobilized with fear. Cold horror swept through her insides, freezing her to the spot. There she hung, staring, as the masked figures on the ground formed a semicircle below Harry.   
  
With a bang and a small flash of green, a cloaked figure shot up into the sky and suspended itself at eye-level with Harry. Frantically, still to far for them to see her, Farrell shot straight up into the air and slowly maneuvered forward until she was directly above Harry and Voldemort. They were not speaking, but even from her great distance, Farrell could see the fiery hate that burned in the gaze they held. They were each just dangling there, eyes fixed on each other, wands raised, looking ready to kill.   
  
Farrell looked to Voldemort. His eyes sparkled with pure hatred, ablaze like crimson coals in his skeletal face. On his face a twisted grin was spread, warping his features into something more sinister than even they would have been normally. From his face, Farrell's eyes shifted to Harry. To anyone who just looked, Harry looked bold and proud, defiant and angry. But to Farrell, he was more than that. Behind his unwavering emerald eyes, fear lingered and upon closer inspection, his hand was shaking on his wand and his furiously set jaw was so stiff from his teeth clenched together in terror.   
  
"So, Potter," hissed the Dark Lord, finally breaking the silent inferno that burned between them, " Come back for another duel?"  
  
Harry did not respond, only glared in fury.   
  
"Is that what you want, Potter?" asked Voldemort in a deadly whisper.  
  
Once again, Harry only glared at him.   
  
Above them, Farrell was going to pieces, but was sure that if she moved, she, and Harry most likely, would be killed.   
  
"Please let Dumbledore come…" she prayed, her eyes flicking towards the castle.   
  
~  
  
"On account of the little mishap that occurred the previous time that we dueled, I have decided to give you a very small advantage, boy."  
  
Harry's face showed no emotion except for anger and he did not move at these words.  
  
" I have chosen another wand to use, since I will not be able to kill you with my own," said Voldemort with relish, as though he were enjoying each syllable.   
  
"So, let us begin then," cackled the Dark Lord, his menacing grin distorting his already disfigured features once again.   
  
Harry's eye's narrowed and he leaned back into his broom, wand poised for action.   
  
"CRUCIO!" shouted Voldemort, trying to catch Harry by surprise.  
  
With a swift turn, he dodged the spell while shouting the first things that came to his head, " RICTUSEMPRA! FURNUNCULUS! WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" all of which were deflected.   
  
Harry continued to dodge the spells on his broom, narrowly escaping death on all sides. For even if the killing curse was not shot at him, if he were to fall, he would plummet to his death on the pitch below him.   
  
Spell after spell shot across the space between them, though none were successful. Above them, Farrell was chewing her nails off in fear. She debated with herself whether or not to shoot curses at Voldemort.  
  
"I could turn him into a slug…then he'd fall! But…oh…then all his blasted men would be after me…but if I don't do anything Harry will die! And then it'll all be my fault and…arrrgh," she screamed inwardly, her heart racing. For Farrell knew that even if Voldemort let down his guard completely, Harry couldn't really do anything since he had such a limited knowledge of curses and spells.   
  
Then, several moments later, Farrell saw Harry look up. He spotted her. And in the split second that he did, Farrell heard a small chuckle of laughter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Voldemort's mouth form the word, " CRUCIO" and a blast of light fly out of his wand. She swooped down in front of Harry. The spell hit her, and, crying out in pain, she fell off of her broomstick.   
  
Despite his fear, Harry kept his head. As though in slow motion, he watched Voldemort's red eyes follow Farrell in surprise and Harry took that moment to shout, " EXPELLIARMUS!"  
Voldemort's wand flew from his hand, and then Harry quickly pointed to the falling form that was Farrell and yelled, " IMPEDIMENTUM!"  
  
Farrell slowed down, floating, featherlike to the ground as Harry tested out his acceleration and soared down in a deep arc, pulling Farrell onto his broom and speeding off towards the tower.   
  
Behind him, he heard," GET THEM! THE BOY IS GETTING AWAY! HE'S STOLEN THE SEER! DO NOT LET THEM ESCAPE! DO NO-  
  
Harry quickly turned to see what had stopped him. Squinting, he saw a blue and silver something zoom onto the pitch, shooting spells in every direction. Looking closer, Harry could tell. It was Dumbledore, fury etched in every line of his face, hatred radiating from his body, as he roared in rage, bringing them down in his wrath. The death eaters were reduced to a faint black glimmer, and Voldemort himself disappeared completely. As soon as he saw the death eaters disappear he looked back to Farrell, lying motionless on his lap, and urged his broom onward, flying around the perimeter of the castle. While circling round, looking for an open window, he saw what he was looking for. It was the common room window Farrell had emerged from earlier. He sailed through the window, landing softly for a moment. He looked at Farrell,   
  
her face white and her eyes closed as her limbs trembled slightly from shock. Harry knew that no matter how much he "hated" her he could not let her die, he wouldn't let Voldemort kill anyone he knew- well…maybe Snape. He pulled Farrell closer and zoomed out of the portrait hole and to the hospital wing.   
  
Madame Pomfrey let out a shriek of alarm when she saw him flying towards her at top speed. It then occurred to him this was the second time he'd flown through the halls of Hogwarts on his broomstick.  
  
"Potter! This is a hospital! You're not on the pitch anymore! If it wasn't for-  
  
But she was cut off as Harry lifted up Farrell and handed her to Madame Pomfrey. Shocked, she lay Farrell onto an empty bed and shooed Harry out of the wing. Reluctantly, He walked from the wing and was ready to head for the common room when he heard a voice behind him.   
  
" Harry?"  
  
Harry spun around, finding himself to be staring straight into the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Hello Professor…" said Harry slowly, not sure if he should mention what happened earlier.  
  
"I'd like a word in my office, if you don't mind," said Dumbledore.   
  
  
~  
  
Lying in the deserted hospital wing, Farrell twisted restlessly in her sheets, a beacon of moonlight illuminating her face, which was contorted in anxiety.  
  
All of a sudden, she froze, rigid, her current nightmare vanishing altogether as pure horror flooded her mind. She forgot her body completely as her soul spiraled deeper and deeper into the beckoning blackness of the void.   
  
"How could you have missed her, fool?!" yelled a harsh voice, "You assured me she'd attend that quidditch match!"  
  
"I-I-I apologize master," simpered a second voice, "It was an assumption, sir. I was wrong."  
  
"We do not assume. Assumptions are for incompetent people. Obviously, you are trying to demonstrate to me your incompetence. I shall ask someone else if I need something done," the first voice hissed scathingly.  
  
"Yes, master," whimpered the second voice.   
  
Then footsteps followed and the voices continued.  
  
"Now. After that first glitch in our plans, we are slightly discouraged, are we not?" asked the first voice.  
  
Murmurs of agreement could be heard.   
  
"Despite that, we shall overcome! We shall get the seer and the city will be ours. With the magic generated from its core, I shall be the most powerful wizard to ever roam the earth! And you all shall be at my hand, commanding the world!" We shall rid the world of all nonbelievers, and then, with all faithful wizards with us, we shall regain the earth from the muggles!"   
  
Cheers could be heard in the background and for the first time during this vision, Farrell saw a claw-like hand raised above the crowd, a large golden key glinting in between the spindly fingers.   
  
A flash of white-hot pain raced up her spine and her back arched, convulsing in agony. She let out a shriek of agony before falling back out off consciousness and back into her pillows.- 


	9. chapter 9

Seeing the Invisible 9  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any HP characters or settings. Farrell Branwen and her mother, aunt, grandmother, grandfather, foster mother, people at the orphanage, the orphanage that no longer exists, brewer's institute of magical education, Mary the transfiguration mouse, the key to the ________ ________ (can't tell you yet), and the plot belong to me. Please do not steal them. If you really really want to use anything I've made up, please ask first, or then it wouldn't be fair now would it?  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
Harry slept curled up in an armchair in Dumbledore's study, worn out from the day he's had. He had fallen asleep there after talking with the headmaster for hours, and Albus hadn't seen it fit to move him.   
  
Suddenly, a large, crimson and gold something swooped down and perched on Harry's chest, letting out a low, steady note. Harry's eyelids fluttered and opened as he smiled at the enormous phoenix that had settled on his torso.   
  
"Hullo Fawkes," he yawned, stretching out his arms.   
  
  
The bird chirped a greeting as it hopped onto Dumbledore's desk.   
  
For a moment, Harry couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. Just as the memories began to flood back into his still-drowsy head, he heard a tap at the window. He stood and walked towards it, looking out for whatever made the noise. His green eyes locked with a pair of bright yellow ones. There was a very large black owl hovering patiently outside of the window. Harry flung it open, letting the owl in.   
  
"Rhiannon?" he asked, smiling at the owl as though it were an old friend," What are you doing here?"  
  
He spotted the letter Rhiannon held in her glittering beak and gently tugged it away from her, seeing his name on the front.   
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Thank you ever so much for saving my life. I surely would not be here if it weren't for you. But what has happened is only a demonstration of the danger I am bringing with me while being around you. The whole reason that he-who-must-not-be-named came to the castle was to retrieve me. If he takes me, so be it, but I cannot let him harm you, Harry. I can't. That is why I believe it would be best if I just avoid people in general. Unfortunately, I am not permitted to transfer back to Brewer's where I belong, so the least I can do is ask you to keep your distance from me. I wish it were not so. If he takes me, so be it, but I cannot let him harm you, Harry. I can't. That is why I believe it would be best if I just avoid people in general. Unfortunately, I am not permitted to transfer back to Brewer's where I belong, so the least I can do is ask you to keep your distance from me. I wish it were not so.  
  
Love,  
  
F.M.B  
  
Harry stared at the letter, bewildered.   
  
"so she never hated us…she's just trying to protect us from things she's made up…this is ridiculous. But mad or not, someone has got to try and sort her out. That's what I'm going to do," thought Harry.  
  
~  
  
Unfortunately for Harry, Farrell kept her word. Outside of classes, she was never seen at all. Harry often tried to follow her when class ended, but she led him so far off track that he ended up getting lost himself. It seemed that she knew the back passageways as well as the Weasley twins had. She was also never seen in the common room or even the dormitory. It appeared as though she came to bed later than the rest of the school and rose earlier than them. Hermione wondered whether she slept at all.   
  
As it happens, Hermione came closest to the truth. Farrell rarely slept. Though her unusual nighttime behavior did not stem from insomnia. It was out of fear that she stayed awake. Though the visions she had while awake frightened her, they did not compare to those she saw while sleeping. While sleeping, the images were clearer, the sound sharper, the reflections so vivid that she could feel the pain boiling in her blood.   
  
As the weather got warmer, the ice and snow melting off of the grounds as small flowers poked through the barren blanket of muddy earth, it was not unusual to see a small flash of black hair for a split second outside by the lake. But then you would blink, and it would be gone.   
  
One day during the last few weeks of school, Farrell lay on her stomach by the edge of the lake, enjoying the sunlight. Her long raven locks were strewn about the grass behind her, her tiny bare feet wiggling in the green grass. She trailed her slender white finger across the glassy surface of the water, enjoying the simple aspects of what was left of her used-to-be-absolutely-amazing life. She plucked a daisy from the grass beside her and set it afloat on the water, spinning it around like a little top. She gently let go of the daisy, letting the after-affects of her twirling take place. Strangely, as it spun, it looked as though time was spinning too. It withered and browned within a moment, and seconds later all of the petals had fallen off. She stared at it horrified, and then looked down at her hands, trying to figure out what had caused this destruction.  
  
Though she did not know it, there was a small figure crouching in the distance that had been watching her all the time.   
  
She looked back to the flower, now a shriveled black weed, and shivered. She reached out to pick it up but-  
  
"Farrell?"  
  
She whirled around, looking for the origin of the voice. She knew that voice. It played over and over in her head every hour of every day. Normally, she longed for the voice to be real, she wished greatly to simply turn around and see its owner. Though now, when she truly heard it, she prayed that her mind was playing tricks on her as usual.   
  
"Harry?" she asked quietly, her voice slightly trembling as she looked around frantically. Then, to her right somewhere, she heard a tiny rustling. She looked to where the noise had come from and found herself face to face with Harry Potter.   
  
He reached her in several strides and sat beside her. She curled her knees up to her chin and locked her arms around her shins. She looked down to the grass, afraid of what she would do if she looked into his eyes.  
  
"I-I asked you not to come see me…" she said, even softer that before.   
  
Harry looked at her intently," I had no choice," he said, trying to get her to look up.  
  
"Farrell," he said. Her golden brown eyes met his jade ones and intertwined in a shared gaze. He watched her eyes shine slightly with tears. " why must you be so scared?" he asked softly, placing a hand on top of hers. At this gesture, she jumped back, cringing from his touch as she turned away, biting her lip.   
  
Harry leaned forward and cupped both of her tiny, white hands in his large strong ones. She flinched, but could not escape his grasp.  
  
She shuddered and looked down, "everyone I've ever cared for is either dead or missing. I…I can't let that happen to you….i mean, look at this flower," she said in a subdued voice as she pointed to the withered stick of a plant, "this used to be a beautiful daisy. Then it met me."  
  
With that, she wrenched her hands from Harry's and turned her back to him, hiding her face behind her palms. Harry came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.   
  
"Shhh…," he whispered into her hair, " don't worry about me. I won't just wrinkle up like that flower. I'll be here for you."  
  
"no. you can't, Harry! Its dangerous…and its all about me. I can't let them take you too because I-  
  
At that point, Farrell found she could not go on. She broke down completely, clinging to Harry's shoulder as she shook with sobs. He held her tightly, trying to provide what comfort he could. He just paused for a minute, taking in how good it was to hold her. How good it was to hear her voice again, and to simply sit with her. He closed his eyes and just wished they could stay like this forever.   
  
~  
  
When he opened his eyes again, the sun was setting over the trees of the forbidden forest. Then he looked down and saw Farrell, asleep in his arms. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her face turned towards his. He reached up and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. Her eyes opened, looking up at Harry. At first she looked a bit surprised, but then her lips spread into the first smile Harry had seen on her since Christmas. The difference in her now was startling. The bags under her eyes had lessened considerably from the few hours of sleep she'd gotten on Harry's shoulder. And from her smile, her whole face seemed to light up a little, merriment radiating from it once more. Farrell was back. The Farrell that he knew and loved.   
  
She stood, taking his hand. They began to walk towards the castle when Farrell stopped.  
  
"Wait."   
  
"What is it?" asked Harry, though he turned around with her.  
  
"I need to go back."  
  
Without a word, they walked back to the lake. Farrell reached for the wilted, stiff flower that was bobbing awkwardly on the surface of the water. But as soon as the tip of her small finger touched it, they both new something was wrong. They felt a jerk behind their navels and the world around them began to spin. Someone had turned the daisy into a portkey.  
  
They landed with a thump on cold hard ground. In the distance, sinister, high-pitched laughter could be heard. 


	10. chapter 10

Seeing the Invisible Ten:  
  
Disclaimer: I only own what you don't recognize; the rest is J.K Rowling's (if you want a little list, see chapter 9). Please don't sue.  
  
~  
  
  
Harry rolled over with a soft groan. Somewhere farther behind him he heard hissing. But it was a human that was hissing…he took that as a very bad sign and looked to his left. Sprawled beside him lay Farrell. Sensing his gaze, her eyes snapped open. Her stare flicked left and right, eyes widening with fear.   
  
"get up when I say…we need to run," breathed Harry, squeezing her hand.   
  
Farrell gave a tiny nod. The silence around them was so intense it was crushing her like two invisible boulders. The shadow of fear was bearing down upon her shoulders, and panic glistened behind her cat-like eyes. She looked around. They were deep within a forest somewhere, and a thicket of tall trees surrounded them on either side.   
  
Harry slowly sat up, his ears picking up every sound. Suddenly, he heard a soft gasp beside him and whipped around, looking at Farrell inquisitively. She looked to her right and he followed her gaze.   
  
Propped up against a tree nearby was a scorched skeleton of a wizard, his broom and wand laying beside him, the mangled remains of his face contorted in agony. He had been burned alive. Harry gulped, knowing that if he didn't think of something soon they too would come to this fate.   
  
All of a sudden, rustling could be heard behind them. Farrell looked at Harry in fear, waiting for his signal. He waited, listening, just as she did. They could hear the sounds approaching and increasing in volume. Harry looked to Farrell, their eyes meeting. He nodded and they jumped up and ran swiftly through the trees.  
  
They ran and ran, hurtling away from the unknown foe. Harry ran behind Farrell, constantly glancing after him, looking for what chased them. Then, out of the blue, Farrell stopped running. She just stood, staring off into the distance as she tried to catch her breath.   
  
Harry stopped beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"What's wrong? Why are you stopping?" Harry asked, breathing heavily.  
  
She looked at him like he was insane.  
  
"Because we've hit a dead end, numbskull," she said, pointing in front of her.  
  
Harry looked at inquisitively, "What are you talking about? We're in the middle of an open forest" he said, staring.  
  
She raised an eyebrow, " Harry, are you blind? There's a wall right here," she said, putting her hand up against where a wall would be.  
  
When he looked at her skeptically she grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand up against the wall.   
  
He could feel the wood beneath his hand, coarse and splintery, but when he looked there was nothing there.  
  
"Farrell, its invisible! How can you see it?" Harry asked, staring at her.  
  
She stared and walked over to the left, heaving her meager weight against the unseen wall.   
  
"What are you doing now?" Harry asked, walking over to her.  
  
"Trying…to open…this door!" she gasped, her teeth clenched together as she rammed into the wall with her shoulder.   
  
Then she remembered something.  
  
"Harry! The seer and the key! And the prophecy! And the lightning boy!" she exclaimed, rigid with excitement.  
  
He stared at her blankly, wondering what she was going on about.  
  
"Harry! The prophecy, remember?"  
  
He nodded, "yea, I do, but what's that got to do anything? We're narrowly escaping death and you're babbling about an invisible wall…"  
  
She rolled her eyes, "Remember the end of it? 'To win the fight forevermore, Lightning and Seer together must soar, over the unseen town of which the treasure was for, over the city of forgotten folklore'. Remember? Plus, I've been having these visions about the red-eyed man, who just has to be the dark lord and he was talking about this invisible city and how he needs the seer and the key to get in and-" she cut off her rambling with a gasp.  
  
Harry whipped around, thinking the attackers were coming, "What?"  
  
"It must be me…Harry- you're the lightning boy because of your scar and…and I must be the seer…yes, that would make sense. Harry- we can rid the world of the dark lord, we just…we just need a broom!" Farrell exclaimed, immensely proud of herself.  
  
Harry stared.  
  
"You're sure?" he asked, eyes wide.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"The…the burnt corpse! He had a broom!" Harry said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  
  
"But we can't go back now, how will we get it?" Farrell said, sighing.  
  
Harry's eyes lit up.  
  
"Leave it to me," he said, pulling out his wand.   
  
"ACCIO BROOMSTICK!" he shouted, pushing every ounce of concentration into the wooden stick into his hand.  
  
Within a few moments, the broom came racing towards them, skidding to a halt in front of Harry. He turned to face Farrell with a grin.  
  
She smiled back and motioned for him to get on before hopping on in back of him.  
  
As soon as they rose into the air, the same crowd of people that had caused chaos during the quidditch match assembled on the ground, shooting spells in all directions until a hooded figure floated in.  
  
Ignoring them and accelerating in speed, Harry flew forward, following the directions of Farrell. They dodged spells in every direction until they were hovering just over the center of what Farrell said was the invisible city.  
  
"You'll never get in without the key," a harsh voice said suddenly.   
  
Farrell and Harry looked around. Lingering nearby, the cloaked figure of Voldemort hung in the air.  
  
"There's a force-field that acts as a roof. You can't fly through it until its broken, only capable by living human flesh of someone who wants to get in for themselves," the sinister voice continued.   
  
"And I had intended to make the dear little seer here open the city with the key, but now, Potter, I could simply drop you and get in without the seer and use her for other means," Voldemort cackled.  
  
Harry's eyes ignited with hatred.   
  
Farrell gripped her wand tightly as Voldemort lifted the golden key from his pocket with a gnarled hand.  
  
"Here is the key, my dear. Come here and I'll execute your friend Potter swiftly and painlessly," Voldemort said, shaking his hood off to reveal a twisted smile.  
  
In a flash, Farrell had whipped out her wand and shot a disarming spell directly at the dark lord.  
  
The key fell from his hand and he let out a yell of fury as he scrambled to grab it. Just as he looked down, scuttling to grab the key, Farrell whisked the heavy golden ball Harry had given her for Christmas and took aim, dropping it on Voldemort's head with a clunk. Knocked unconscious by the ball, Lord Voldemort fell through the shield.  
  
Where he fell through, a web of intricate golden light, like threads in a tapestry, wove out on all sides of the hole he'd made in the shield. Suddenly, invisibility was replaced with vision as the city materialized before their eyes, colorful and untouched. Harry zoomed down to where Voldemort had fallen.  
  
The dark lord lay in a heap on the ground, but not for long. Harry and Farrell stood over him, waiting for a sign of movement in which they would blast him to pieces. But he did not move. In fact, he was beginning to blur around the edge, slowly disappearing into nothing. After a few minutes, the dark lord was no more.  
  
Just as he disappeared, a loud crunching noise could be heard. Farrell and Harry looked around, watching for the source of the noise. With a gasp, Farrell found it. The enormous walls of the city were crumbling to nothing, slowly breaking down since the shield had been broken.   
  
Harry quickly ushered her onto the broom and sailed out of there and into the safety (if you could call it that) of the forest. They reached the spot they'd arrived in, marked by the scorched man.   
  
Hopping off of the broom, they searched for the portkey.  
  
"Harry, do you realize what we've just done?" Farrell asked, her voice shaking.  
  
Harry glanced over and nodded numbly before bending over, closely examining the underbrush.  
  
"Harry," she said, her face breaking into a grin, "we've destroyed the dark lord."  
  
Then he straightened up, beaming as he held up the withered remains of the burnt flower.  
  
"And now, "he said, "we're going home."   
  
Farrell grinned as they joined hands and each touched the flower. It was with only a jerk behind their navels before they fell with a thud onto the Hogwarts school grounds.   
  
  
~  
  
"You are honestly telling me that you defeated Lord Voldemort and that he deteriorated into the walls of the unseen city before they crumbled into nothing?" Professor Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard after listening to about an hour of their retelling of the day's events.  
  
Harry and Farrell nodded, exhausted.  
  
"Its not that I don't believe you, Ms. Branwen, Harry, but I assure you that the rest of the world will be skeptical. Unless, that is, you have any proof."  
  
Harry put his head in his hands and Farrell sighed before her eyes widened and she jumped up reaching into her pockets.  
  
She pulled out the charred remains of the key, and two shining pieces of gold that were formerly part of her Christmas present from Harry.  
  
Professor Dumbledore disregarded the key but immediately picked up the pieces of the ball.  
  
"This is a Solation ball, is it not?" he asked, examining it closely.  
  
Farrell looked to Harry, who nodded.  
  
"You're sure?" the headmaster asked again, staring at the ball.  
  
Harry nodded again, "yes, sir. I bought it for Farrell for Christmas."  
  
"Well, Harry, Solation balls are truly indestructible. They are centuries old, and very rare. Where you bought it is beyond me, because usually they are quite hard to find. But the impact of an age-old magical force field…if anything could break a Solation ball that could. So, your story must be true," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling widely.  
  
"On behalf of the wizarding world, I thank you for your services. I should think you both will receive the Order of Merlin, most likely first class. But now, I need to owl the minister of magic, telling him of your achievements. You may go," the headmaster said, gesturing to the door.  
  
After leaving the office of the headmaster, on the spiral staircase down to the entrance, Harry turned to Farrell.  
  
"So, now that you've saved the world and destroyed the most evil villain to grace the earth, what would you say to having dinner with me tomorrow?" He asked, smiling at her.  
  
She turned to look at him, but instead of responding, pulled him towards her and kissed him deeply. The entrance to the corridor swung open and a crowd of people cheered as they stood there kissing in the dark. 


End file.
